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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Kindergarten Stories 



MORNING TALKS 







WRITTEN AND COMPILED 


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BY y 

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SARA E. WILTSE 


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BOSTON, U.S.A. 

PUBLISHED BY GINN & COMPANY 

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Copyright, 1890, 
By SARA E WILTSE, 



Typography by J. S. Gushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 
Presswork by Ginn & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 



INTRODUCTION. 



I CORDIALLY recommend this collection of simple object 
lessons and stories which Miss Wiltse has arranged for 
the Kindergarten. Their value will depend on the way 
in which they are brought before the children. The 
salient points of both should be studied before they 
are presented to the children, that they may be given 
in a spirited manner. 

LALIAH B. PINGREE. 



PREFACE. 



This collection of stories is intended for a series of 
texts upon which the teacher may elaborate. 

Great liberty has been taken in revising, and it is ex- 
pected that experienced story-tellers will adapt, lengthen, 
shorten, or remake, as the needs of their pupils demand. 

More material has usually been given for each week 
than can be used, but a kindergartner will be able to select 
from it that which is suited to the different grades in 
her room. 

Thanks are due the authors who have kindly permitted 
such use of their work, and to the Christian Register, 
Christian Unioji, and Independent for stories which first 
appeared in their columns. 

Miss Phelps' poem, "A Hebrew Legend," is published 
by permission of and arrangement with Messrs. Houghton, 
Mifflin, & Co. 

Roberts Brothers kindly allow the use of Dr. E. E. 
Hale's story of "Our Daily Bread"; and Fords, Howard, 
& Hulburt permit the selection from Rev. Henry Ward 
Beecher's " Norwood." These courtesies are gratefully 
acknowledged by the 

EDITOR. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

First Week of September i 

Mary had a Little Lamb 2 

The Bramble Bush and the Lambs 4 

Second Week of September 6 

Story of Birds and Fish 6 

Third Week of September 8 

Coming and Going 8 

Fourth Week of September 11 

Tom the Water-Baby 11 

Story of a Mouse 19 

The Ermine 23 

Stories for Prang's Trade Pictures 24 

No. I. — The Farm-Yard 24 

No. 2. — The Gardener 26 

No. 3. — The Carpenter 27 

No. 4. — The Tinsmith and Printer 28 

No. 5. — The Baker 31 

First Week of October 34 

The Anxious Leaf 34 

The Walnut-Tree that wanted to bear Tulips 35 

The Walnut-Tree that bore Tulips {continued) 38 

How Coal is made 40 

Second Week of October 42 

The Lion and the Mouse 43 

Milk, Butter, and Cheese 45 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Third Week of October 51 

Leather 51 

A Legend of the Great Dipper 54 

Fourth Week of October 58 

Hair and Bones 58 

Grandma Kaoline 62 

Fifth Week of October 65 

Grandma Kaoline's Story 65 

Horn 68 

The Hare and the Tortoise 71 

First Week of November 73 

Glue \ 73 

Second Week of November 77 

Thanksgiving Story 77 

Steak and Tallow 79 

Third Week of November 84 

Story of Three Bears 85 

The Bear that hugged the Tea-Kettle 89 

Fourth Week of November 91 

Florence Nightingale 92 

Peep Star ! Star Peep ! 93 

First Week of December 96 

Second Week of December 96 

Saint Elizabeth and the Sick Child 97 

Third Week of December 99 

A Jewish Legend 99 

Saint Christopher 100 

The First Christmas Presents 103 

Fourth Week of December 105 

First Week of January 105 

Charlotte and the Ten Dwarfs 105 

Second Week of January 107 

Our Daily Bread 107 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

A Story for Willie Winkle no 

Third Week of January 113 

The Snowflakes , 113 

Fourth Week of January 117 

The Story of King Midas 118 

The Little Cookie Boy 119 

First Week of February 1 22 

Helps to an Object Lesson on Calico and Print. No. i 122 

Second Week of February 125 

Helps to an Object Lesson on Calico and Print. No. 2 125 

Third Week of February 129 

Fourth Week of February 129 

Amy Stewart 129 

First Week of March 132 

Helps to an Object Lesson on Paper 132 

Second Week of March 135 

Second Lesson, or Review of Paper-Making 135 

Third Week of March 137 

Helps to Object Lessons on Rubber 138 

Kitty Caoutchouc 139 

Fourth Week of March 144 

Second Lesson on Rubber 144 

The Pea-Blossom 146 

Cloth and Paper Story 150 

First Week of April 153 

Baby Calla 153 

Second Week of April 156 

The Wind and the Sun 156 

Third Week of April 158 

A Queer Place for a Bird's Home 158 

Fourth Week of April 160 

Fifth Week of April 160 

The Drop of Water 161 



K CONTENTS 



PAGE 



First Week of May 163 

A Legend of the Cowslip , 163 

What are the Dandelions? 165 

Iddly Bung's April Christmas Tree 166 



The Flax 



170 



Second Week of May 176 

The Green House with Gold Nails 177 

**"-- The Bees' Pockets 180 

Carl and the Earthworms 181 

Third Week of May 183 

Oak -Tree and Acorn 183 

The Greenies , 185 

Saint EHzabeth and the Roses 186 

Fourth Week of May 187 

Helps to an Object Lesson on the Hickory-Tree 187 

The Mice in a Robin's Nest 189 

The Little Harvest Mouse . 190 

First Week of June 192 

The Elephant 192 

The Camel , 194 

Second Week of June 196 

Hercules and the Wagoner 196 

The Crow and the Pitcher 197 

Third Week of June 199 

A Story for the Lessons with Staffs and Rings 199 

The Ugly Duckling 201 

We thank Thee 211 

A True Bear Story 211 



STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 
JFtrst SEeefe of ^eptrmfter. 

Lead the children to tell something about their homes 
and who keeps them tidy, bringing out the mother-care in 
the family. Draw attention to young birds fed by the 
mother-bird. Stimulate observation of the birds and their 
feather dresses ; of lambs and their covering of wool. 
Question about the children's clothes and the material of 
which they are made, dwelling upon the fact that for much 
of our clothing we are indebted to the sheep. Show pic- 
tures of sheep if there is no opportunity for the children 
to see live ones, and tell how the wool is sheared every 
spring. 

Give a brief sketch of the process by which a kinder- 
garten ball is produced. A simple game helps to deepen 
the impression of our indebtedness to the sheep. One 
child takes a kindergarten ball, another a blackboard 
eraser of wool, and a third a pair of wool hose. The 

others then ask : — 

" Baa, baa, little sheep, 
Have you any wool ? " 

And the three answer : — 

" Yes ; we have three bags full, — 
One for the eraser, and one for the ball, 
And one which we make into stockings for all." 

Holding up the three articles as they are mentioned. 



2 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Mary and her Lamb may be paraphrased, and in some 
kindergartens dramatized. Miss Poulson's Finger Song 
about the lambs may be recited by the teacher. 

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB. 

Mary had one little lamb. Mary's father had a hundred 
little lambs. Mary's lamb could not stay in the house 
with her all of the time ; it stayed out in the meadow, 
with the other little lambs and sheep, most of the time. 
When Mary went to look at all the lambs playing 
together, she could not tell surely which, was her own 
until she called, " Pet, Pet ! " As soon as she spoke, her 
lamb would come bounding toward her, and would go with 
her wherever she went. When she had to go home to go 
to bed, she would shut the gate between her and her 
lamb, and then kiss the lamb's woolly head through the 
bars, telling him, " Good night ; be sure to be awake when 
I go to school in the morning." A part of Mary's path to 
school was beside the meadow, and the lamb always went 
as far as he could with her ; when she turned the corner so 
he could go no further, he always put his head through the 
fence for Mary to give him a good-by hug and a kiss, and 
as long as he could see her he would cry "baa, baa" ; but 
when she was quite out of sight, he would go to play with 
the other lambs, no doubt thinking that a hundred lambs 
were almost as good playfellows as one little girl. 

One day all the sheep were taken from the meadow and 
driven down the road past the schoolhouse, the lambs 
being left alone. Mary was afraid something might happen 
to her lamb, left with so many frisky little creatures with- 
out a mother-sheep to tell them not to turn heels over head. 



FIRST WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 3 

Mary's father had told her she might bring her lamb 
down past the schoolhouse at noon and see what they 
were doing with the old sheep ; so Mary let the lamb fol- 
low her to school in the morning, though her father did 
not mean she should do so. It really was no harm, and I 
am sorry " it made the children laugh and play, " so that 
the teacher had to turn the lamb out of doors. But just 
as soon as school closed, Mary ran out, and hugging the 
woolly little lamb, said, " You dear, patient little Pet ! now 
we will take a walk " ; and away they went down the road 
toward the river. Very soon they heard all sorts of baas, — 
big, coarse baas, pretty, soft baas, and coarse and soft baas 
all mingled together. [Children can easily produce the 
sound.] 

It was a strange sight that Mary and Pet saw. Some 
men were carrying the sheep into the water and were 
washing their warm woolly coats in the clear, cool river. 
Mary asked her father if she might wash her lamb, and her 
father said she might wash his face and see how he liked 
that. Mary took off her shoes and stockings and waded 
into the water. Mary's lamb splashed in aft^r her, and 
when his face had been neatly washed, Mary's father said 
the day was so warm that she might wash all of her lamb's 
wool. What fun they had ! The lamb enjoyed it quite as 
much as Mary did. Mary was afraid the dust- would get 
into the damp wool and make her lamb look more untidy 
than if he had not been washed, so she took off her apron, 
and putting the lamb's fore-legs through the sleeves, started 
home ; but the lamb would not stir a step while dressed in 
that way, and Mary took the sleeves off his legs and tied 
them in a pretty bow-knot under his chin ; this seemed to 
please him much better, for he now trotted briskly ahead of 



4 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

her a part of the way home. I wish you had been at that 
schoolhouse when Mary and her lamb went past ; the 
teacher and all the children were eating their luncheon out 
under the trees, and they laughed as you or I would laugh, 
to see a lamb dressed in a girl's apron. 

When all the old sheep had been in the sunny meadow 
a few days after their bath in the river, their thick coats 
of wool had become quite dry, and they were taken to the 
barn, where the farmers cut off their wool every summer. 
Mary and her lamb went too. Mary said her lamb ought 
to be taught to keep very quiet while being sheared, and 
her father said the best-behaved lambs always made the 
best sheep ; so Mary taught her lamb to keep its feet quite 
still while she played that she cut its wool all off to make 
herself a dress. Some of the wool from a mother-sheep 
was made into a ball for Mary to hang round Pet's neck 
so she could tell him from the other lambs, and Mary had 
a dress, a hood, a pair of mittens, and some stockings made 
from the wool that was cut from the sheep's backs that 
day. Mary took a pair of scissors and clipped a tiny lock 
of wool from Pet's back, and tying it with a blue ribbon, 
put it in a box marked : " Pet's first wool ; washed and cut 
off by Mary. " 

[The story of the Bramble Bush admirably connects bird life with 
the sheep, and suggests the interdependence of animals.] 

THE BRAMBLE BUSH AND THE LAMBS. 

Once there was a little brook where the horses and cows 
and sheep used to go to drink. On the banks of the brook 
sweet flowers grew, and there were many bramble bushes 



FIRST IVEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 5 

there also ; when the sheep ran down to the water, the 
brambles caught hold of their wool and often pulled out 
little white shreds of it, that made the bushes look as 
if they had white flowers. The sheep did not like having 
their wool torn off in this manner, and they often com- 
plained of the brambles, saying they had no use for wool, 
and ought not to take it. The sheep said, " We are quite 
willing to let the farmers shear every lock of wool from 
our backs; for it is then made into stockings, and dresses, 
and — [let the children name things made of wool]. We 
think these bramble bushes of no use in the world ; the 
cows who drink from the brook with us give their milk to 
the children, the horses draw carriages and carts, but what 
kindness did a bramble bush ever do .-' " The bramble 
bushes said not a word, but held the bits of white wool on 
the tips of their sharp little fingers. 

When the sun rose one sweet spring morning, and the 
sheep were still lying in the grassy meadow not far from 
the bramble bushes, they heard a beautiful song overhead ; 
it was a bird, just arrived from the sunny South, singing 
his glad thanks for the new day, and for his dear nest 
which he had left in a tree when he went away in the 
autumn. After the song the birds talked in bird language 
about the nest, which needed a new lining, and as they 
flew to the brook for their morning bath, what do you think 
they saw ? The bits of wool on the brambles. And the 
sheep heard them talking as they worked, of the kindness 
of the brambles in gathering the wool for them ; and the 
sheep looked more kindly upon the bramble bushes after 
that, and sometimes pushed their woolly heads into the 
bushes to give them a fresh bit for other birds. 

Anonymous. 



STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



^cconti SiEcrk of ^cptrmijer. 

Have you seen any birds this week ? What have you 
seen them doing ? Aren't they Httle creatures ? 

[Children love dearly to observe little animals, and the teacher 
should dwell somewhat upon the helplessness of young creatures 
and the great care which all mothers bestow upon the young. Atten- 
tion may be drawn to the bathing of birds, the cleanliness of kittens, 
and the fondness of lambs for clean, grassy places. The children 
may be questioned about what the birds and lambs and kittens wear, 
and what the lambs give to the children ; what the baby at home 
wears that the sheep supplies, and what the children's mothers are 
doing for them while they are in kindergarten.] 

STORY OF BIRDS AND FISH. 

Three little birds lived in a nest in a tree ; the tree 
stood near the fountain in the Public Garden in Boston, 
and in the fountain basin lived three little goldfish. One 
morning the three little birds hopped from their nest and 
flew down beside the fountain where they spied the three 
little goldfish. The birds hopped up on the edge of the 
stone basin and looked at the fish, and the fish swam close 
to the birds and looked at them. 

At last the largest fish said to the smallest bird : — 

" Will you please come into the water and play with us } 
It is very cool and pleasant here, and if you do not know 
how to swim, you can run around on the bottom of the 
basin until we can teach you ; it is very easy to swim — 
for fish at least." 

The bird said : — 



SECOND WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. J 

"We cannot go in water as deep as that in the basin : 
our wings are not made for swimming, but I see you have 
something on your sides that looks like tiny wings ; per- 
haps you can fly a little. If you will come out of the 
water, we will try to teach you to fly from branch to branch 
of our tree, which I am sure is pleasanter than to stay so 
much in the water." 

But the fish explained that the little things on his sides 
were fins for swimming, and would never be wings. Just 
then the mamma-bird called "tweet, tweet," and the three 
little birds bade the fishes good by, and flew away to see 
what their mamma wanted. 

Just as they reached the home nest, a little boy with his 
mother came to see the goldfish, and he asked her why 
the fish kept under water while the birds flew about in the 
air. His mother told him that fish were so made that 
they could breathe under water, but birds could only 
breathe in the air, though a few of them can dive under 
water for a short time. 

The little boy said he was glad he had hands and arms 
instead of fins or wings, and the little birds told their 
mamma they were happy as happy could be because they 
could fly about among the branches of the trees and rest 
upon flower-stalks ; and the little fishes agreed they were 
very glad to be able to live in the cool water, and swim 
about, which seemed to them much easier than flying in 
the dry hot air. 

No doubt the Good Friend who takes care of birds, fish, 
and boys was very glad to see them all so contented. 

Miss Wiltse taught a kindergarten many years in Boston, and most 
cf her stories in this book were made for and told to the little children 
in the Cottage Place Kindergarten. 



STORIES AND MORNING TALK'S. 



Etirti SErek of ^cptcmljrr. 

Did you ever go away in the steam cars or in a steam- 
boat ? How long did you stay ? What did you do for a 
clean dress or a clean apron while you were gone ? Some- 
body we know is going to take a journey soon. A great 
number of our little friends are going to a warmer country. 
But they are not going in the cars, nor in a boat. No ; 
nor in a carriage, nor in the horse cars ! Hundreds of them 
will go together, and not one of them will take a trunk or 
even a lunch-basket ! 

Mr. and Mrs. Robin Redbreast, with all their children ; 
Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird, with all their children ; Mr. and Mrs, 
Thrush, with their children, and scores of their cousins ; 
Mr. and Mrs. Blackbird, and all the little Blackbirds ; and 
many a bird that you have not seen or heard this year, will 
soon fly away to the warm country where they will find 
green leaves and bright flowers even at Christmas time. 
Some birds will stay with us. The Pigeons will not go 
away, nor will the Sparrows go ; and if you could go into 
the woods where many trees grow, you would find the 
Crows and the Blue Jays even in midwinter. 

COMING AND GOING. 

There came to our fields a pair of birds that had never 
built a nest nor seen a winter. How beautiful was every- 
thing ! The fields were full of flowers, and the grass was 
growing tall, and the bees were humming everywhere. 



THIRD WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 9 

Then one of the birds began singing, and the other bird 
said, "Who told you to sing?" And he answered, "The 
flowers told me, and the bees told me, and the winds and 
leaves told me, and the blue sky told me, and you told me 
to sing." Then his mate answered, " When did I tell you 
to sing ? " And he said, " Every time you brought in 
tender grass for the nest, and every time your soft wings 
fluttered off again for hair and feathers to line the nest." 
Then his mate said, " What are you singing about } " 
And he answered, " I am singing about everything and 
nothing. It is because I am so happy that I sing." 

By and by five little speckled eggs were in the nest, and 
his mate said, " Is there anything in all the world as 
pretty as my eggs } " Then they both looked down on 
some people that were passing by and pitied them because 
they were not birds. 

In a week or two, one day, when the father-bird came 
home, the mother-bird said, " Oh, what do you think 
has happened .? " "What.-*" "One of my eggs has been 
peeping and moving!" Pretty soon another egg moved 
under her feathers, and then another and another, till five 
little birds were hatched ! Now the father-bird sang louder 
and louder than ever. The mother-bird, too, wanted to 
sing, but she had no time, and so she turned her song into 
work. So hungry were these little birds that it kept both 
parents busy feeding them. Away each one flew. The 
moment the little birds heard their wings fluttering among 
the leaves, five yellow mouths flew open wide, so that 
nothing could be seen but five yellow mouths ! 

" Can anybody be happier .'' " said the father-bird to the 
mother-bird. "We will live in this tree always, for there 
is no sorrow here. It is a tree that always bears joy." 



10 S'TORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Soon the little birds were big enough to fly, and great 
was their parents' joy to see them leave the nest and sit 
crumpled up upon the branches. There was then a great 
time ! The two old birds talking and chatting to make 
the young ones go alone ! In a little time they had learned 
to use their wings, and they flew away and away, and 
found their own food, and built their own nests, and sang 
their own songs of joy. 

Then the old birds sat silent and looked at each other, 
until the mother-bird said, "Why don't you sing.!*" 
And he answered, "I can't sing — I can only think and 
think." "What are you thinking of .'' " "I am thinking 
how everything changes : the leaves are falling off from 
this tree, and soon there will be no roof over our heads ; 
the flowers are all going ; last night there was a frost ; 
almost all the birds are flown away. Something calls me, 
and I feel as if I would like to fly far away." 

" Let us fly away together ! " 

Then they rose silently, and, lifting themselves far up 
in the air, they looked to the north : far away they saw 
the snow coming. They looked to the south : there they 
saw flowers and green leaves ! All day they flew ; and all 
night they flew and flew, till they found a land where there 
was no winter — where flowers always blossom, and birds 
always sing. 

Henry Ward Beecher. 

Some of the prettiest stories you will hear were told by 
Mr. Henry Ward Beecher, who used to live in New York 
City. He was a great preacher and good story-teller. You 
will hear another of his pretty stories before many weeks. 
This one was taken from his book entitled " Norwood." 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. II 



JFourt!} SEeek of ^rptnuicr, . 

We have noticed the neatness of the birds ; how they 
bathe in clean water, and what care they take not to get 
their pretty feathers soiled. The kitten washes her face, 
and steps very carefully not to get her little paws in a bit 
of mud. If you watch closely, you can see even the tiny 
flies brush their heads and cleanse their bright little faces. 

Children ought surely to be as careful about clean faces 
and hands as kittens, puppies, and house-flies ! 

[Any of the stories of cleanliness given below may be used ; and in 
some kindergartens they may all be told.] 

"Tom the Water-baby" was written by Mr. Charles 
Kingsley for his own little boy. Mr. Kingsley lived in 
England, and was a great preacher. He also knew a 
great deal about the little animals that live in the sea, and 
has written some books for men and women that are full 
of beautiful thoughts. 

[A picture of Canon Kingsley, and any little sketch the teacher may 
choose to give of his life, will perhaps help to form a taste for the best 
in literature. His song, " I once had a Sweet Little Doll. Dears," is 
a great favorite with children.] 

TOM THE WATER-BABY. 

Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and 
his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have 
heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in re- 



12 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

membering it. He lived in a great town in the North 
country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep. 
He could not read nor write, and did not care to do either ; 
and he never washed himself, for there was no water up 
the court where he lived. He had never been taught to 
say his prayers. Tom and his master, Mr. Grimes, set out 
one morning for Harthover Place, where they were to 
sweep the chimneys. Mr. Grimes rode the donkey in 
front, and Tom and the brushes walked behind. 

Old Mrs. Earth was still fast asleep ; and, like many 
pretty people, she looked still prettier asleep than awake. 
The great elm-trees in the gold-green meadows were fast 
asleep above, and the cows fast asleep beneath them ; nay, 
the few clouds which were about were fast asleep likewise, 
and so tired that they had lain down on the earth to rest, 
in long white flakes and bars, among the stems of the elm- 
trees, and along the tops of the alders by the stream, wait- 
ing for the sun to bid them rise and go about their day's 
business in the clear blue overhead. 

Tom never had been so far into the country before ; 
and longed to get over a gate, and pick buttercups ; but 
Mr. Grimes was a man of business, and would not have 
heard of that. 

Soon they came up with a poor Irishwoman, trudging 
along with a bundle at her back. She had a gray shawl 
over her head, and a crimson madder petticoat. She had 
neither shoes nor stockings, and limped along as if she 
were tired and footsore ; but she was a very tall, handsome 
woman, with bright gray eyes, and heavy black hair hang- 
ing about her cheeks. And she took Mr. Grimes's fancy 
so much, that when he came alongside he called out to 
her, — 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 1 3 

" This is a hiard road for a gradely foot like tliat. Will 
ye up, lass, and ride behind me ? " 

But, perhaps, she did not admire Mr. Grimes's look and 
voice ; for she answered quietly, — 

" No, thank you ; I'd sooner walk with your little lad 
here." 

"You may please yourself," growled Mr. Grimes, and 
went on. 

So she walked beside Tom, and asked him where he 
lived, and all about himself, till Tom thought he had never 
met such a pleasant-spoken woman. 

And she asked him, at last, whether he said his prayers ; 
and seemed sad when he told her that he knew no prayers 
to say. 

Then he asked her where she lived ; and she said far 
away by the sea that lay still in bright summer days, for 
the children to bathe and play in it ; and Tom longed to 
go and see the sea and bathe in it. 

At last they came to a spring, bubbling and gurgling, so 
clear that you could not tell where the water ended and 
the air began. 

There Grimes stopped, got off his donkey, and clambered 
over the low road-wall, and knelt down, and began dipping 
his ugly head into the spring ; and very dirty he made it. 

Tom was picking the flowers as fast as he could. The 
Irishwoman helped him. But when he saw Grimes actually 
wash, he stopped, quite astonished ; and when Grimes had 
finished, and began shaking his ears to dry them, he said, — 

"Why, master, I never saw you do that before." 

" Nor will again, most likely. 'Twasn't for cleanliness 
I did it, but for coolness. I'd be ashamed to want washing 
every week or so, like any smutty collier-lad." 



14 



STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



" I wish I might go and dip my head in," said poor httle 
Tom. " It must be as good as putting it under the town- 
pump ; and there is no beadle here to drive a chap away." 

"Thou come along," said Grimes. "What dost want 
with washing thyself ? " 

Grimes was very sulky, because the woman preferred 
Tom's company to his ; and he began beating him. 

"Are you not ashamed of yourself, Thomas Grimes.''" 
cried the Irishwoman, over the wall. 

Grimes seemed quite cowed, and got on his donkey with- 
out another word. 

" Stop ! " said the Irishwoman. " I have one more word. 
Those that wish to be clean, clean they zvill be ; and those 
that ivish to be foul, foul they will be. Remember." 

How many chimneys Tom swept at Harthover Place 
I cannot say : but he swept so many that he got quite 
tired, and lost his way in them ; and coming down, as 
he thought, the right chimney, he came down the wrong 
one, and found himself standing on the hearth-rug in a 
room the like of which he had never seen before. 

The room was all dressed in white : white window-cur- 
tains, white bed-curtains, white chairs and white walls, 
with just a few lines of pink here and there. 

The next thing he saw was a washing-stand, with ewers 
and basins, and soap and brushes, and towels ; and a large 
bath full of clean water. And then, looking toward the 
bed, he held his breath with astonishment. 

Under the snow-white coverlet, upon the snow-white 
pillow, lay the most beautiful little girl that Tom had ever 
seen. Her cheeks were almost as white as the pillow, and 
her hair was like threads of gold spread all about over the 
bed. 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 1 5 

She never could have been dirty, thought Tom to him- 
self. And then he thought, " And are all people like that 
when they are washed ? " And he looked at his own wrist, 
and tried to rub the soot off, and wondered whether it 
ever would come off. " Certainly I should look much 
prettier, if I grew at all like her." 

And looking round, he suddenly saw, standing close to 
him, a little, ugly, black, ragged figure, with bleared eyes 
and grinning white teeth. He turned on it angrily. What 
did such a little black ape want in that sweet young lady's 
room } And behold, it was himself reflected in a great 
mirror, the like of which Tom had never seen before. 

And Tom, for the first time in his life, found out that 
he was dirty ; and burst into tears with shame and anger ; 
and turned to sneak up the chimney again and hide, and 
upset the fender, and threw the fire-irons down, with a 
great noise. 

Under the window spread a tree, with great leaves, and 
sweet white flowers, and Tom went down the tree like a 
cat, and across the garden towards the woods. 

The under-gardener, mowing, saw Tom, and threw down 
his scythe, and gave chase to poor Tom. The dairy-maid 
heard the noise, jumped up and gave chase to Tom. A 
groom ran out, and gave chase to Tom. Grimes upset the 
soot-sack in the new-gravelled yard, and spoilt it all utterly ; 
but he ran out, and gave chase to Tom. The ploughman 
left his horses at the headland, and one jumped over the 
fence, and pulled the other into the ditch, plough and all ; 
but he ran on and gave chase to Tom. Sir John looked 
out of his study-window {for he was an early old gentle- 
man), and he ran out, and gave chase to Tom. The Irish- 
woman, too, was walking up to the house to beg ; she must 



1 6 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

have got round by some by-way ; but she threw away her 
bundle, and gave chase to Tom Hkewise. 

Tom ran on and on, and when he stopped to look around, 
he said, "Why, what a big place the world is; " for he was 
far away from Harthover, having left the gardener, and 
the dairy-maid, and the groom, and Sir John, and Grimes, 
and the ploughman all behind him. 

Through the wood he could see a clear stream glance, 
and far, far away the river widened to the shining sea, 
and this is the song Tom heard the river sing : — 

Clear and cool, clear and cool, 
By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool; 

Cool and clear, cool and clear, 
By shining shingle, and foaming wear ; 
Under the crag where the ouzel sings, 
And the ivied wall where the church bell rings, 
Undefiled, for the undefiled ; 
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child. 

Strong and free, strong and free, 
The floodgates are open, away to the sea ; 

Free and strong, free and strong. 
Cleansing my streams as I hurry along ; 
To the golden sands, and the leaping bar. 
And the taintless tide that awaits me afar. 
As I lose myself in the infinite main. 
Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again. 
Undefiled, for the undefiled ; 
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child. 

Then he fell asleep and dreamed that the little white 
lady called to him " Oh, you're so dirty ; go and be 
washed ; " and then he heard the Irishwoman say : " Those 
i!uit wish to he clean, clean they zvill be.'' And all of a sud- 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 17 

den he found himself, between sleep and awake, in the 
middle of the meadow saying continually, " I must be 
clean, I must be clean." And he went to the bank of the 
brook and lay down on the grass and looked into the clear 
water, and dipped his hand in and found it so cool, cool, 
cool ; and he said again, " I must be clean, I must be 
clean." And he put his poor, hot, sore feet into the 
water; and then his legs. "Ah," said Tom, "I must be 
quick and wash myself." 

And all the while he never saw the Irishwoman : not 
behind him this time, but before. 

For just before he came to the river-side, she had 
stepped down into the cool, clear water ; and her shawl 
and her petticoat floated off her, and the green water- 
weeds floated round her sides, and the white water-lilies 
floated round her head, and the fairies of the stream came 
up from the bottom, and bore her away and down upon 
their arms ; for she was the Queen of them all ; and per- 
haps of more besides. 

" Where have you been .'' " they asked her. 

" I have been smoothing sick folk's pillows, and whisper- 
ing sweet dreams into their ears ; opening cottage case- 
ments, to let out the stifling air; coaxing little children 
away from gutters and foul pools ; doing all I can to help 
those who will not help themselves : and little enough that 
is, and weary work for me. But I have brought you a new 
little brother, and watched him safe all the way here." 

But Tom did not see nor hear this, for he had not been 
in the water two minutes before he fell fast asleep, into the 
quietest, sunniest, coziest sleep that he ever had in his 
life. The reason of his delightful sleep is very simple : 
the fairies had taken him. 



1 8 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

Ah, now comes the most wonderful part of this wonder- 
ful story. Tom, when he woke, — for of course he woke ; 
children always wake after they have slept exactly as long 
as is good for them, — found himself turned into a water- 
baby. 

And now happened to Tom a most wonderful thing ; he 
came upon a water-baby. 

A real, live water-baby, sitting on the white sand, very 
busy about a little point of rock. And when it saw Tom, 
it looked up for a moment, and then cried, "Why, you 
are not one of us. You are a new baby ! Oh, how 
delightful ! " 

And it ran to Tom, and Tom ran to it, and they hugged 
and kissed each other for ever so long, they did not know 
why. 

At last Tom said, " Oh, where have you been all this 
while .-* " 

"We have been here for days and days. There are 
hundreds of us about the rocks." 

" Now," said the baby, " come and help me, or I shall 
not have finished before my brothers and sisters come, 
and it is time to go home." 

" What shall I help you at .? " 

"At this poor, dear little rock; a great, clumsy boulder 
came rolling by in the last storm, and knocked all its head 
off, and rubbed off all its flowers. And now I must plant 
it again with sea-weeds, and I will make it the prettiest 
little rock-garden on all the shore." 

So they worked away at the rock, and planted it and 
smoothed the sand down round it, and capital fun they 
had till the tide began to turn. And then Tom heard all 
the other babies coming, laughing and singing and shout- 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 1 9 

ing and romping ; and the noise they made was just like 
the noise of the ripple. 

And in they came, dozens and dozens of them, some 
bigger than Tom and some smaller, all in the neatest 
little white bathing-dresses ; and when they found that 
he was a new baby, they hugged him and kissed him, 
and then put him in the middle and danced round him on 
the sand, and there was no one ever so happy as poor 
little Tom. 

"Now then," they cried all at once, "we must come 
away home, we must come away home, or the tide will 
leave us dry. We have mended all the broken sea-weed, 
and put all the rock-pools in order, and planted all the 
shells again in the sand, and nobody will see where the 
storm swept in last week." 

And this is the reason why the rock-pools are always 
so neat and clean ; because the water-babies come in shore 
after every storm to sweep them out, and comb them 
down, and put them all to rights again. 



STORY OF A MOUSE. 

A very neat little Mouse once lived in the same house 
with an ill-natured old Cat. When this little Mouse left 
his bed in the morning, he always washed and brushed 
himself with great care, taking particular pains with his 
long tail, which he kept very sleek and pretty. 

One morning the untidy Cat had not been able to find 
her brush and comb, not having put them in their proper 
place the day before ; and when the Mouse ran past her, 
she snapped his pretty tail quite off because she felt so 



20 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

cross. The little Mouse turned and said, " Please, Mrs. 
Cat, give me back my long tail ! " 

Mrs. Cat answered, " I will give you your long tail if 
you will bring me a saucer of milk ; I always like milk 
better than tails." 

The little Mouse had no milk in his pantry, but he took 
his tin pail and went to the Cow, saying, — 

" Please, Mrs. Cow, give me some milk, and I will give 
Mrs. Cat some milk, and Mrs. Cat will give back my long 
tail." 

The Cow said, " I will give you some milk, but I must 
first have some hay." The little Mouse then took his 
wheelbarrow, and going to the farmer, said, — 

" Please, Mr. Farmer, give me some hay, and I will give 
Mrs. Cow some hay ; Mrs. Cow will give me some milk, 
and I will give Mrs. Cat some milk, and Mrs. Cat will give 
back my long tail." 

The farmer said, " I would be glad to give you some 
hay, but my barn door is locked ; if you will go to the 
locksmith, and get me a key, I will unlock my barn, and 
give you all the hay you can carry on your little wheel- 
barrow." 

Then the little Mouse took his pocket-book, and went 
to the locksmith, saying, " Please, Mr. Locksmith, give 
me a key, and I will give the farmer a key, and the farmer 
will give me some hay, and I will give Mrs. Cow some 
hay, and Mrs. Cow will give me some milk, and I will 
give Mrs. Cat some milk, and Mrs. Cat will then give me 
back my long tail." 

The locksmith said, " I must have a file with which to 
make a key ; if you will get me a file, I will make the key 
with great pleasure." 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 21 

So the little Mouse took his satchel, and went to the 
blacksmith, and asked him, saying, — 

" Please, Mr. Blacksmith, give me a file, and I will give 
Mr. Locksmith a file, and Mr. Locksmith will give me a 
key, and I will give the farmer a key, and the farmer will 
give me some hay, and I will give Mrs. Cow some hay, and 
Mrs. Cow will give me some milk, and I will give Mrs. Cat 
some milk, and Mrs. Cat will give me back my long tail." 

The blacksmith answered, " I need some coal to build a 
fire before I can make a file. If you will go to the miner, 
and get me some coal, I will be glad to make a file for you." 

So the Mouse took his little cart, and went down, down 
into the dark earth, until he saw a man, with a lantern on 
his hat, and when he spoke to the man, the man said, 
" Well done, little Mousie, how did you get so far without 
a light } " 

Mousie answered that he was quite used to playing in 
the dark, and now he must work night and day to get his 
tail again ; and then he said, — 

" Please, Mr. Miner, give me some coal, and I will give 
the blacksmith some coal, the blacksmith will give me a 
file, I will give the locksmith a file, the locksmith will give 
me a key, I will give the farmer a key, and the farmer will 
give me some hay, and I will give Mrs. Cow some hay, and 
Mrs. Cow will give me some milk, and I will give Mrs. Cat 
some milk, and Mrs. Cat will give me back my long tail." 

Then the miner filled the little cart with coal ; and the 
Mouse trudged up to the blacksmith, who gave him the 
file, which he put in his little satchel, and then ran as fast 
as his feet would carry him to the locksmith, who gave 
him a key, which he put in his pocket-book, and carried 
to the farmer, who unlocked the barn door, and gave him 



22 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

all the hay he could pile upon his wheelbarrow. Mousie 
took the hay to Mrs. Cow, who filled his little tin pail with 
milk, which the Mouse carried to the cat, saying, " Now, 
Mrs. Cat, please give me back my long tail." 

Mrs. Cat said, " So I will, my dear ; but where have I 
put it .■" " 

Then this untidy Cat called all the people in the house, 
saying, "Where could I have put that tail.''" "Oh! now 
I think I know — I believe it is in the upper bureau 
drawer." But the tail was not in the upper bureau drawer, 
and the poor Mousie who had worked so hard was nearly 
ready to cry, and the milk was getting cold. Then Mrs. 
Cat said, "I must have put it in this closet," and she ran 
to the closet, pulling down dresses and boxes ; but there 
was no tail there, and the little Mouse had to wink very 
hard not to let the tears fall, and the milk was getting blue, 
when Mrs. Cat shouted, " Of course I put it in the second 
drawer" ; but she tumbled all the things out of the drawer 
and found no tail ; then the little Mouse had to sing 
"Yankee Doodle" to keep from crying, and the milk was 
in danger of getting sour. 

Mrs. Cat now clapped her paws, and said, " Why, I know 
where it is — I ought to have thought before — I put it 
here in this lower drawer, in this very box, wrapped up so 
neatly in pink tissue paper. Yes ; hurrah ! here it is ! " 
And the Mousie took his pretty, long tail, and ran 
home as fast as he could to get some glue to stick it on 
again ; and Mrs. Cat ate her milk, thinking she would try 
hereafter to put things in their places. 

[A whole series of clay-modelling may be derived from this story, 
the children — even the youngest — finding it easy to model a mouse, 
two small beads being used for eyes ; the older ones making the saucer, 
the pail, the wheelbarrow, etc.] 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 23 

THE ERMINE. 

There is a beautiful little snow-white animal which is 
called an ermine, and there is a pretty legend about it, 
which you must know is not a true story, but is a most 
beautiful one, — so beautiful it ought to be true, Mr. 
Kingsley would say. 

The ermine really has not a black hair on its exquisitely 
white body, and it steps very softly over the earth, that it 
may not soil even its snowy feet with the dust. 

It is said there were once some naughty men, with dirty 
hands and faces, who thought it would be great fun to 
drive an ermine into the mud. They tried a long time 
without succeeding, for the ermine could run very fast, 
and creep into very small places. 

At last these naughty men made a pen all around the 
ermine, with ditches full of muddy water on all sides but 
one, and on this side they built a hot fire ; and then they 
laughed cruelly because the ermine must go in the mud or 
be driven into the fire. 

When everything was ready, they shouted and ran 
after the little creature, which went bounding toward the 
muddy ditch ; but it would not put a foot into such a vile 
place, and it ran to another side only to find that guarded 
with the muddy water. So it dashed from side to side; 
and when the cruel men pressed closer and shouted 
louder, reaching towards it with their foul hands, the 
glorious little ermine went flashing like a snow-flake 
straight toward the fiery wall that guarded the last side. 

The men began to feel that there was not much fun 
after all in such sport as this, for they were not so wicked 
as to wish to burn the pretty ermine ; but the ermine 



24 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

dreaded their unclean touch as much as she dreaded the 
mud, and while the men fell back in astonishment, the 
ermine leaped into the flame, — but in the flame appeared 
the dear Christ Child, who took the ermine in his arms 
and turned a glowing face upon the cruel men, saying : — 

" This is my ermine, white and pure as I made it. How 
dare you seek to harm it ? I quench the fire that it may 
not be burned, for I am the Christ Child who cares for all 
things pure." 

Then gazing pitifully upon the men, he whispered softly, 
"Go, make yourselves clean." 

The ermine was carried to a beautiful garden, where it 
was never again afraid, and the men became gentlemen; 
who never teased another creature. 

Adapted from Miss Phelps' poem enlitled The Ermine. 

STORIES FOR PRANG'S TRADE PICTURES. 

No. I. — The Farm-Yard. 

Do you see the children in this picture t Their names 
are John and Mary, and they live on the farm, in a house 
which you cannot see, because the leaves are so thick on 
those trees behind the barn. They have come with their 
father to feed the pigeons and chickens ; they have never 
been in a city but once, and they do not know the dif- 
ference between an electric car and a horse car ; but they 
could tell you what kind of trees the cows are under, and 
they could tell you that one of the cows is a Jersey, whose 
name is Dun, and that the beautiful cock is not of the 
same family as the hen with the little chickens. They 
misht not know the difference between a street and a 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 25 

place, and they might think the postman was a police 
officer, but they could tell you the names of every kind of 
grass in the farm-yard, and of every flower that grows by 
the wayside, between their home and the schoolhouse, 
half a mile away ; and they know the difference between 
thunder clouds and a mackerel sky. 

That boy on the load of hay is their brother, and when 
he learns anything from the books, he dearly loves to teach 
it to the children from the earth or sky. 

Their father has promised them that he will harness the 
horses that you see in the barn, and will some day take 
them to visit their uncle who has a garden not far from a 
great city. 

Look at that dog ! his name is Eric, and he says, " Bow- 
wow ! " That means, "May I go with you .-' " The old 
turkey spreads his tail like a large fan, and says, " Gobble, 
gobble, gobble ! " Perhaps he means to say that he would 
like to see his cousins down at the garden. The hens say, 
" Kut-kut-ke-dak-kut ! " The children answer, " Yes, we 
will take some of your eggs to our uncle," just as if the 
hens had asked them to do so. 

The ducks say, " Quack, quack, quack ! " Perhaps that 
means, "We would like a swim in the fountain basin at the 
garden." And the pigs say, "Oof, oof, oof!" No doubt 
they would like to root up some tulip bulbs and eat them, 
but corn is quite good enough for pigs, the children tell 
them. 

That little calf says, " Baa, baa ! Give me only half a 
pail of milk to-night and take the other half to the gar- 
dener." And the pigeons say, "Coo, coo, coo! We fly 
over the garden every day, but we love to come home 
every night and see the dear little children who feed us." 



26 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

» 

No. 2. — The Gardener. 

The man who is on one knee in the garden is John's 
uncle, and the tall boy gathering fruit is John's cousin. 

The others are hired to work in the garden and the 
greenhouse, which you see is covered with glass. One man 
is cutting the grass with a lawn-mower, and one is clean- 
ing the gravel walk. They have had a letter that John 
and Mary are coming, and Uncle Toby is putting some 
flowers in pots which he is going to give them. Every- 
thing is clean and tidy about the garden. 

The boy who is picking fruit is hurrying so he can have 
time to put John and Mary in the wheelbarrow and trundle 
them around the garden through the pretty paths. The 
spade and the rake, the watering-pot and the ladder, have 
each been used in the garden. Uncle Toby is a good 
workman, and he has saved so much money from the 
flowers he has sold, that he is having a new house built. 
Do you know what we call the men who build houses ? 
You will be surprised to hear that the man who is boring 
a hole in the timber for the new house, is Uncle Toby's 
brother, and so is John's uncle. 

He is a very cheerful carpenter, and likes his work so 
well that he often tells the children he hopes they will be 
carpenters when they grow up. His name is Joseph — 
just the same name as that of a good carpenter who lived 
many hundred years ago in a far away country. 

When he goes to his dinner he will be greatly surprised 
to find John and Mary there with their father and their 
Uncle Toby. The children will not have time to go to 
the new house to-day, but their Uncle Joseph promises to 
go after them himself some day and show them the tools 
that are used in building houses. 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 2/ 

No. 3. — The Carpenter. 

When the children went home from the gardener's, 
they had much to tell their brother about the plants and 
flowers, and the new house, about which they were to hear 
another day. Their brother taught them the names of the 
flowers their uncle had given them, and would you think 
it possible for one boy to know so much } He could tell 
them just what kind of roots the plant had, by looking 
only at the leaves ! 

The next week their Uncle Joseph came to take them 
to the new house, and he showed them boards, and 
shingles, and rafters, and clapboards, telling them the best 
kind of wood to use for floors, and how the lightest wood 
was used for lathes. The carpenters were glad to see 
children who looked about with so much interest and not 
once offered to touch a shining tool ; and when John said 
he had a plant at home with leaves that had little teeth 
very much like those of the saw, the man who stands with 
his back toward us laid down his saw, put John on his 
shoulder, and called to his son who was sawing up there by 
the window, to take this little boy who used his eyes so 
well and give him some of the flower seeds he has in his 
pocket. John took the seeds, thanking both of the men 
for their kindness, and told them he was sure his brother 
at home could tell by looking at the seeds what the leaf 
would be ; but the carpenter told him not to ask, but to 
plant the seeds, and wait patiently till they put forth leaves, 
and he would remember the longer for finding out for him- 
self. John and Mary learned a great deal about nails and 
chisels, beetles and augurs, planes and saw-horses ; and 
when they went home, their uncle gave them some clean 



28 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

bits of board and some sweet-smelling blocks of pine wood 
with which they made some little boxes, in which Mary 
keeps her doll's clothes. 

No. 4. — The Tinsmith and Printer. 

When John and Mary went to their grandfather's on 
Thanksgiving day, they saw some uncles that work in the 
city. These uncles were their mother's brothers, just as 
Uncle Toby and Uncle Joseph are their father's brothers ; 
and although the children had visited them once, it was 
when they were so small that they had quite forgotten 
about it, and these uncles said they thought it only fair 
that the children and their mother should spend a week in 
the city. 

Uncle John was a tinsmith, and the children went to 
his shop one day with their mother, finding him at work, 
as you see him in the picture. He is making an eaves- 
spout. Some days he works all day on tin pans, and other 
days on basins or boilers. He likes his work because he 
can make so many different things, and he says he always 
tells himself stories about everything he makes. The 
spout he is making he thinks will go in the country, — 
perhaps be put on Uncle Toby's new house, — and little 
children will hear the rain tinkling and splashing through 
it into the cistern ; or if he makes a basin, he thinks about 
the child who may eat bread and milk from it, and he will 
imagine he sees the child in its home, with a pretty white 
kitten waiting for its share of milk from the bright basin. 

He is a very good uncle, and can tell stories to children 
as fast as he can work, and that is so fast that people who 
are in a hurry for a bit of work always say, " We will take 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 29 

it to John King, for liis work is always quickly and well 
done." 

Uncle John left his shop one day to show the children 
the way to their Uncle Caxton's, who is a printer. Uncle 
Caxton is the handsome man turning the wheel with his 
foot to print the card he has in his hands. 

When the children went to his office, he asked the man, 
who is putting little letters, called type, into their boxes, 
to please let the children find the letters of their names 
and bring them to him. They soon came with the tiny 
letters in their hands, and their Uncle Caxton showed 
them how to stick them in a little case ; then he fastened 
the case in the machine, put some ink on the letters, and 
rolled a white card through, and there were the names 

JOHN 

AND 

MARY" 

one on each card. The children were much pleased, and 
took the cards home with them, and showed, them to the 
calf, who said, — • — ; to the turkey, who spread his tail 

wider than ever, and said, ; to the cock, who flapped 

his wings, and said, ; to the hen, who ran from her nest, 

saying, ; to the little yellow chickens, who picked at 

them with their little yellow bills, and said, ; to the 

ducks, who curved their green and brown necks, and said, 

; to the pigeons, who shook their beautiful feathers, 

and said, ; to the sleek horse, who said, ; to the 

good-natured dog, who wagged his tail, and said, ; to 

the pigs, who lifted all the bristles on their backs, and said, 

; and to somebody else, who said, " A card with 

John's name, and one with Mary's name too ! did the tin- 



30 STORIES AND MORNhWG TALKS. 

smith make them for you ? "' The children laughed at 
this joke of their brother's, for he knew very well that tin- 
smiths are not the men who print cards. But the tinsmith 
had given the children something to take home with them. 
You can see a picture of one in the shop ; but the one in 
the picture is larger than the ones the children had ; they 
were made of tin, had wire handles, were about as large 
around as an orange, and were shaped like a cylinder, but 
were not solid ; they would hold milk or seeds ; yes, 
they were little tin pails painted red, and had John in 
gilded letters on one, and Mary in gilded letters on the 
other. 

How could the children use them } 

They could carry water to the chickens. 

They could carry seeds to the pigeons. 

They could carry oats to the horses. 

They could carry a drink of milk to their brother when 
he was at work in the hayfield. 

They could gather them full of chestnuts. 

They could fill them with snow in winter. 

They filled them with popped corn for the carpenter 
when he came to visit them. 

They filled them with roasted chestnuts for the gardener. 

They packed them with ripe cherries for the printer. 

And when spring came, and their father made maple 
sugar, they had two sweet little loaves made in the two 
pails, and when it was hard and smooth they slipped it out, 
packed it in a box, which John himself made from the little 
boards his uncle gave him when they were visiting the 
new house, and sent them to the city to their uncle, the 
tinsmith. 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 3 1 

No. 5. — The Baker. 

When Uncle John, the tinsmith, received this present 
from the children, he was much pleased, and wrote them 
this letter : — 

"My Dear John and Mary: 

" Your sweet spring gift came to me this morning, and 
brings a story with it. I thank you for the sugar, which 
looks too good to eat, and I hasten to tell you a story 
which I hope may come true. 

" On a farm which you have seen there live two children 
whom I have not seen in a long time. These children 
have a cousin in the city who has just gone into business 
for himself ; he buys tin spoons and cups and baking-pans 
and measures of me, — and I used to give him little pails 
like yours ; but he is a man now and earns money for 
himself, and does not like to have his father give him any 
but Christmas and birthday presents. He says he has 
some little cousins in the country, — perhaps you know 
them, — and as the wheat from which he gets the flour for 
his bakery grows on a farm, and the eggs which he uses 
in making cakes come from a farm-yard, he would like 
very much to have his little cousins spend a week in the 
city and learn what they can about the way the city people 
must be helped by the country people. 

" If my story may end by the little children coming here, 
I shall think it a very good story. Now ask your mother 
if you may come, and write me, 'Yes,' by return mail, 
so I may tell my son the baker to make some cakes for a 
birthday party, for I think little Mary's birthday comes next 
week, does it not .■' " Your affectionate uncle, 

"John King." 



32 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

This letter made the children happy, for their mother 
said at once that they might go to visit their uncle and 
cousin. It took some time to get them ready ; the winter 
ice and snow had spoiled their shoes, and they had to go 
to the village to buy some new ones and have the old ones 
mended. This took nearly a whole day ; but the children 
enjoyed it, for the shoemaker told them about leather and 
lasts, pegs and waxed ends, soles and heels, until they 
almost wished they could stay a week in a shoemaker's 
shop. And they might have staid a week without hearing 
all that could be told about the whole process by which 
one child's shoe is made. 

At last the day came for them to start, and the horses 
were harnessed to take them to the steam-car station, the 
little trunk was put in the wagon, and they kissed their 
father and mother good by, — for this time their brother 
was going with them, — and away they drove. But they 
had not gone far before one of the horses lost a shoe, and 
their brother said they must stop at the blacksmith's on 
the corner and have the shoe replaced, or the horse would 
be lame. At first the children thought they could not 
wait, but their brother told them there was plenty of time 
before the train would start for the city, so they stopped 
at the blacksmith's. You can see the smith in the picture ; 
yes, that is the very horse that you saw in the farm- 
yard picture. 

The man with the hammer is making a horseshoe : 
you can see the shoe on the anvil. The boy at the bellows 
is keeping the fire bright and hot. Everybody is happy 
and busy. Even the children waiting outside are gather- 
ing some wayside flowers to take to the city. 

When the shoe was firmly nailed on, the children started 



FOURTH WEEK OF SEPTEMBER. 33 

again, and met with no mishap during the remainder of 
their journey. 

When they went to the bake-shop, they found their 
cousin wearing a white paper cap and a snowy white apron, 
— that is he, — just putting the cakes in the oven. While 
they are baking, he will tell the children about the little 
girl who brings the beans to be baked, and they will be 
glad so many beans grew in their father's field this year. 
They will learn that the cans of milk under the shelf came 
from a farm, that the barrels of flour came from the wheat 
that grew on a farm ; in fact, that everything that we eat 
or wear can be followed back to the fruitful earth, — and 
that is why we call it the good mother earth. 

Now, I am sure you can make some stories for your- 
selves. Tell us about the woman behind the counter ; 
tell us how long the children stayed in the city, and what 
they saw and heard ; make a story about the lady buying 
shoes at the shoemaker's ; about the roll of leather ; tell 
what the shoemaker thinks or sings while he pegs away 
on that boot ; who will wear the boot — perhaps that very 
boot will go across the seas, or climb the great mountains 
of our own country. Who will buy the shoes up there on 
the bracket .'' Who will buy the bread on the shelf in the 
bake-house .'' How will the money be earned with which 
to buy it } Who made the barrels that hold the flour } 
Where did the trees grow that furnished the wood for 
bread-boards and rolling-pins } Wake up, little children, 
and think about all you see in these wonderful pictures. 
Do you know who made the pictures and where the great 
Prang manufactory is .'' Some of you have sisters who 
work there. 



34 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



JFirst SErrk of ©rtobrr. 

Have you looked at the leaves that are turning red and 
gold and brown ? By and by all the trees will go to sleep ; 
the birds' nests in the branches will have no birds in 
them ; the leaves will fall upon the earth and be covered 
with soft snow, and every branch of the trees will be bare 
and beautiful ; then the children can see the slender shape 
of the twigs and their delicate colors. Some tree-trunks 
and branches are almost black, and others are so white 
that a great poet, Mr. Longfellow, called them the white 
ladies of the forest. Sometimes the young twigs are quite 
pink, and sometimes the body of a tree has beautiful 
patches of moss growing upon it. People used to love 
the trees so dearly that the poets believed a lovely woman 
lived in every tree, and when the wind rustled the leaves 
they thought the lady was singing. 

Mr. Beecher wrote a story once which he called 

THE ANXIOUS LEAF. 

Once upon a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and 
cry, as leaves often do when a gentle wind is about. And 
the twig said, "What is the matter, little leaf .^" And the 
leaf said, "The wind just told me that one day it would 
pull me off and throw me down to die on the ground ! " 
The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the 
branch told it to the tree. And when the tree heard it, 
it rustled all over, and sent back word to the leaf, " Do 
not be afraid ; hold on tightly, and you shall not go till 



FIRST WEEK OF OCTOBER. 35 

you want to." And so the leaf stopped sighing, but went 
on nestling and singing. Every time the tree shook itself 
and stirred up all its leaves, the branches shook them- 
selves, and the little twig shook itself, and the little leaf 
danced up and down merrily, as if nothing could ever pull 
it off. And so it grew all summer long till October. And 
when the bright days of autumn came, the little leaf saw 
all the leaves around becoming very beautiful. Some were 
yellow, and some scarlet, and some striped with both 
colors. Then it asked the tree what it meant. And the 
tree said, " All these leaves are getting ready to fly away, 
and they have put on these beautiful colors because of 
joy." Then the little leaf began to want to go, and grew 
very beautiful in thinking of it, and when it was very gay 
in color, it saw that the branches of the tree had no color 
in them, and so the leaf said, " O branches, why are 
you lead color and we golden.''" "We must keep on our 
work clothes, for our life is not done ; but your clothes 
are for holiday, because your tasks are over." Just then 
a little puff of wind came, and the leaf let go without 
thinking of it, and the wind took it up, and turned it 
over and over, and whirled it like a spark of fire in the 
air, and then it fell gently down under the fence among 
hundreds of other leaves, and began to dream — a dream 
so beautiful that perhaps it will last forever. 

Henry Ward Beecher, in Norwood. 

THE WALNUT-TREE THAT WANTED TO BEAR TULIPS. 

Many years ago, when your grandmamma's grand- 
mamma was a little girl, there stood a tall young Walnut- 
Tree in the backyard of a tulip-dealer. 



36 STORIES AND MOKNING TALKS. 

Now the Walnut thought he had never seen anything 
so beautiful as the little Tulips that were set out in the 
yard to be kissed by the Sun, who each day paid a visit of 
an hour to the Walnut. 

The wonder is that the Sun did not stay longer to watch 
the pretty shadow-pictures which the Walnut began to 
make on the grass as soon as the Sun said "good 
morning." 

Another wonder is, that the great Walnut ever thought 
of looking down at the dear little Tulips, when he might 
have looked up at the greater Sun. But so he did, and 
you and I will never know the why of a great many things 
smaller even than that, until we go up higher, to be taught 
by the dear Friend who knows everything. 

However, the Tulips were very lovely, I assure you, 
with their scarlet and golden cups. 

One day a wonderful sister Tulip was brought out. 
What color was she, do you suppose .'' 

" Crimson .'' " 

"No." 

" Purple ? " 

"No." 

I am sure you will not be able to guess, so I will tell 
you. 

She was black, and she was softer than velvet, and more 
glossy than satin. 

When the Walnut saw this beautiful Tulip, every little 
leaf danced in the air for joy, and every little branch bent 
low. You've seen the trees bending to kiss the children 
and the flowers that way, I am sure. 

The Walnut did something else, which I will tell you, if 
you will promise not to tell the Hickory or the Chestnut. 



FIRST WEEK OF OCTOBER. 



2,7 



He dropped a little leaf at the Tulip's feet, which was 
written all over with a wonderful language that nobody 
but trees and flowers, birds and bees, and perhaps Mr. 
Tennyson or Mr. Kingsley, could read. 

The Tulip did not seem to care about the leaf or the 
letter written on it, and we cannot tell whether she sent 
an answer back to the Walnut or not : be that as it may, 
the Walnut was not quite so happy after he sent the letter, 
but he began growing better. 

And do you not think it wiser in our best Friend to 
make us good instead of happy, sometimes .-' 

The Walnut used to say after this happened, " I'll bear 
Tulips myself." 

How would a Walnut-Tree look with Tulips among its 
leaves .'* 

You think that could never, never happen .■* We shall 
see. 

Walnut struck his roots deeper, and spread his branches 
broader and broader, until he was quite wonderful to look 
upon. Sometimes the Wind used to hear him singing 
something like this, which was set to the most beautiful, 
rustling little tune you ever heard : — 

" Well bear Tulips yet ; 

Leaves and I can ne'er forget ; 

Roots, be not weary ; 

Heart, be thou cheery ; 

The blessing may tarry. 

But we'll bear Tulips yet, — 

Leaves, roots, and heart, do not forget." 

A hundred years went by, but there were no Tulips 
among the leaves of the Walnut-Tree. A hundred years 
is a long time for trees to wait, is it not } We can afford 



38 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

to wait longer for some things than can the trees, for we 
never, never really and truly die. Now at the end of the 
hundred years this Walnut fell to singing another refrain 
which the years had been teaching him : — 

" I bear no Tulips yet ; 
And though I ne'er forget, 
As thou wilt, Master, let it be ; 
Tulips or only leaves for me, 
Still I will cheery be : 
Do thou thy will with me ; 
Leaves, roots, and heart, I yield to thee." 

This dear Walnut had been very brave and stout- 
hearted. He had left nothing undone which any Walnut- 
Tree could do, and he had grown very fine in fibre and per- 
fect in form, so that one day a wood-carver said, "That 
perfect tree is just what I want for my work." The brave 
old Walnut was cut down and sawed and chipped ; but he 
did not mind ; for what do you suppose the wood-carver 
was making .-• 

Black Tulips, to be sure ! 

You never saw any black Tulips .'' 

Then I advise you to look sharply at every bit of wood- 
carving you can find ; for those very Tulips are somewhere, 
feeling very happy that they can bloom all the year round, 
while some of the Tulips we know have to sleep half the 
year at least. 

[Any hard-wood tree, more familiar to the children, may be substi- 
tuted for the walnut ; and if they are familiar with any particular leaf or 
flower in wood-carving, the story may be modified to suit the carving.] 

THE WALNUT-TREE THAT BORE TULIPS {cojitinued). 

The Tulips carved from the heart of the patient Walnut- 
Tree adorned the temple for which they were fashioned 



FIRST WEEK OF OCTOBER. 



39 



more years than the tree had struggled with the storms of 
its old life. 

The carved petals grew darker with age, and the Wal- 
nut's heart of hearts became more peaceful with " self- 
devotion and with self-restraint." On Easter day the altar 
was adorned with living Tulips whose hearts were aflame 
with life and love ; the cup of a splendid black Tulip was 
lifted to touch the dark wood of the carved altar, and the 
heart of the old Walnut throbbed with a divine discontent 
which was so softened by divine patience that it hardly 
knew it sang : — 

" Father, I'm waiting yet, 
Hoping thou'lt not forget. 
Others I strive to bless, 
Asking no happiness 
But what thou wilt. 
Carven and still I stand, 
My life in thy dear hand." 

Thus it poured out its melody while the people wor- 
shipped, and when a misplaced candle set fire to the altar 
draperies, and the great cathedral shrivelled and crackled 
in the flames, the Walnut yielded its Tulips to the ele- 
ments without fear, almost without hope, but with an 
infinite satisfaction in having given itself bravely and 
uncomplainingly to the Father's great plans, which must 
include a higher happiness for somebody than the heart of 
a Walnut could devise or perhaps even hold. 

The ashes of the Walnut-Tree lay white and ghastly 

upon the charred earth ; the dew gathered upon them, and 

the rain beat them deeper and deeper into the pitiless 

, dust. At first they lay in the form of the Tulips, but the 

wind soon whirled the pale petal-shaped mass into pathetic 



40 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

shapelessness, and there lay the heart of the Walnut, for- 
gotten of all but the unforgetting Father. 

They yielded themselves now to winter's frost and 
summer's heat with no will but to suffer, and no hope but 
to bless unknown lives in His way, though only by enrich- 
ing the earth for other blossoms. 

A gardener passed that way, and like the woodman of old, 
selected that which best served his purpose, — the self-pre- 
pared earth. A Tulip bulb was buried in this fruitful soil, 
and by the beautiful chemistry of nature the Walnut-Tree 
found its carved, burned, and storm-beaten heart trans- 
formed into the living beauty of a magnificent black Tulip. 

Is not this enough, — a hundred years of growth; a 
struggle with storms ; a final fall beneath the woodman's 
axe; the sharp instruments of the wood-carver; the adorn- 
ing of the temple ; after which the flame and the frost ; 
the loss of identity except to the Father ; burial and final 
resurrection for one week of bloom in the color and form 
of a Tulip .'' 

Nay, it is not enough, and the bright Tulip lifts its 
chalice, heart of Tulip answering to heart of child : — 

" There is no death ; there is only change. Live for 
others while you keep your own good purpose unchanged 
as the unchanging Father's love ; forget selfish aims, yield- 
ing your life to wiser plans than any you can imagine ; 
and, like the Walnut-Tree, you will find at length a joy too 
deep for any language but that of blooming in sweet and 
sacred silence." 

HOW COAL IS MADE. 

"What an amount of preserved sunshine there is in 
those little fragments ! " said Cousin Ben, as we sat by the* 
open grate. 



FIRST WEEK OF OCTOBER. 41 

" Is it preserved sunshine, Ben, that makes the coal 
burn ? " asked Ralph. " Could sunshine get down into a 
deep coal mine ? " 

" Yes ; the heat comes to us because the sunshine of a 
time long past was laid up for our use now. It is one of 
the best gifts our good Friend has given us. It keeps our 
houses warm, and gives us the light we burn. All kinds 
of machinery are worked by it, from the steam engines 
that take us to town, to the factories where all our goods 
are made." 

" I don't see how it was done," added Ralph, whose 
second question had not been answered. 

" Have you never been told that coal is made from 
plants } The heat of the coal is what plants first took in 
from the sun. 

" I have been in coal mines where I could see shapes of 
ferns and other leaves. It has taken many whole forests 
to make a single mine. 

" Peat is the beginning of a coal mine before it grows 
hard. In it you would see the stems of plants plainly." 

" Is coke coal not quite finished } " asked Ralph. 

" No. Coke is what remains of coal when the gas that 
we burn has been driven out of it. 

" Tar oozes out of lumps of coal, making little black 
bubbles. 

" Most of our beautiful dyes that we see in silks and 
woollens, and the flavors in our candies, come from coal 
tar also. 

" Think of having heat, light, colors, and flavors stored 
up for our use deep down in the earth. Isn't it won- 
derful .? " xrf 

From Stickney's Reader. 



42 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 



Srronti W^u\i of ©ctoicr. 

I HOPE you often think about the many things your 
mother does for you, and how busily your father works for 
you. Older brothers and sisters, too, are often very kind 
to the little ones. I once knew a girl in grammar school 
who went a long distance every day to take her little sister 
to the kindergarten. She never had time to play tag with 
the other girls, because she had to hurry or be late to her 
own school ; and she was always gentle with the little 
sister, often carrying her when it snowed, and wrapping 
her own thin shawl about the child, who was usually much 
more warmly dressed than she was. 

I knew a boy in the high school who brought his little 
sister to kindergarten every day, taking great care to hold 
the umbrella over her when it rained, and losing many a 
fine game with the boys of his own age because he chose 
to be kind to his tiny sister. What can the tiny sisters do 
to show the older ones that they love them and are grate- 
ful for their care .-' 

The man who wrote the story of the Mouse and the 
Lion lived many hundred years ago. His name was 
^sop, and there is a book of his stories which men, 
women, and children still delight in reading. 

He was a slave at one time in his life, but his master 
was so charmed with his stories that he set him free. 

A very rich king invited ^sop to live in his palace with 
him, so that he might listen to his wonderful stories every 
day. The great story-teller was so much loved and 



SECOND WEEK OF OCTOBER. 43 

honored that the people of the city of Athens had a beau- 
tiful statue erected in his honor. 



THE LION AND THE MOUSE. 

A hungry Lion lay fast asleep in a thick wood. 

And there were some little Mice who lived near by. 
They saw the great creature, and thought it would be fine 
sport to play Hide and Seek on his back. 

So one little Mouse hid in his thick mane ; another ran 
under his paw. One crept behind his tail. The smallest 
one of all ran over and over his back, to find those that 
were hiding. 

The little Mice knew it was not quite safe, but they said 
it was all the more sport. 

Suddenly, with a great gape and stretch, the Lion woke. 

How the Mice ran! — all but the little one that was 
under his paw. It, poor thing, was held fast, and could 
not get away. 

The Lion was hungry and a little cross. His first 
thought was to eat his poor little prisoner. 

But the brave Mouse put up its tiny paws, and looked 
the Lion straight in the face. 

" Do not eat me, O Lion ! " she said. " Pray do not eat 
me ! I'm such a little thing I should do you no good. 
And I've a mother and five brothers and sisters at home 
who would be so sad. If you will let me have my life 
now, I will do as much for you some day, indeed I will." 

This made the Lion laugh. But he was not a bad Lion. 
He lifted his paw, and away ran the Mouse. Before his 
little brothers and sisters had time to tell what had 
happened to him, he was safe by his mother's side. How 



44 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

happy they all were, and how they praised the good 
Lion ! 

It was long afterward when a strange thing happened. 
One of the Mice — the very one that had been under the 
Lion's paw — was near the place where they had had their 
play. She heard the roar of a lion, and had a mind to run 
quickly away. The sound came again. " I know that 
roar. It is my old friend," she said. " I will go and see 
what is the matter." 

There lay the Lion, roaring dreadfully. "What is the 
matter.''" said the Mouse, in her little squealing voice; but 
the Lion did not hear. 

So she went nearer, and spoke louder. She had to go 
close up to his ear to make him hear. 

"What is the matter.?" she said again. 

" Don't you see," said the Lion, "how I am tied up with 
these ropes } " 

"Oh," said the Mouse, "that is too bad." 

She went and looked at the great rope that held the 
Lion fast. He had been bound with a great cord, by the 
hunters, who had gone for help to put the Lion in a cage. 
" Do not roar so loud, dear," she said, in a motherly voice ; 
" I will see if I cannot set you free." 

" What nonsense ! " said the Lion, and he filled the air 
with his roaring. 

When he was still again, she said, " If you will lie still 
and not roar, I am sure I can save your life." 

" How can you ? " growled the Lion. 

"What are my sharp little teeth good for, if I cannot 
gnaw your rope so that you can get away.?" said the 
Mouse. 

It took a long- time. The Mouse was afraid all the time 



SECOND WEEK OF OCTOBER. 45 

that the Lion would snap at her and eat her up. But he lay 
still and looked at her as she worked so hard at the rope. 

"What makes you so kind .'* " he said at last. 

" Do you remember," said the Mouse, " that you gave me 
my life once .'' When I was a young and giddy little child, 
you woke and found me under your paw, and you let me 
go free. I said I would do as much for you. I am doing 
it now, am I not .-' " 

"You have saved my life," said the great Lion. 

And there was another story to tell at the mouse home 
after that. 

From iEsop's Fables. 

[Miss Dugan, who wrote half of the stories about the Cow, lives in 
Boston, and first told these stories to the children of Cottage Place 
Kindergarten. She also wrote the words and music to several Christ- 
mas carols, especially for the little children of Cottage Place.] 



MILK, BUTTER, AND CHEESE. 

First Story in Series of Object Lessons on the Cow. 

Little Alice was five years old, and had lived all her 
life in a city. She knew nothing of woods, and brooks, 
and fields full of clover and daisies, of bees, and butterflies, 
and birds, except through stories. Alice liked to hear these 
stories, and when she was snugly tucked in her little white 
bed, she would say, " Now, mamma, please tell how the 
cows showed you the way home that time you were lost," 
or, " Tell how you played with the little brook in the 
woods." 

Alice's father and mother loved their little girl very 
dearly, and when they found that she was growing pale 
and quiet, instea^l of being rosy and active as a healthy 



46 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

child ought to be, they began to think what would be the 
best thing to do for her. " She is drooping just as a 
flower would, if shut off from the warm sunshine and pure 
air, in a narrow street," said the mother. 

" Then we must take our little flower to the country, 
where air and sunshine are plentiful," said the father, "and 
give it a chance to grow." Mr. Boyd was a busy man, 
and he had not left his work for a day since his little Alice 
was born ; but he was a wise and careful father, and he did 
not wait long after deciding what was the right thing to do. 

In less than a week Alice, with her father and mother, 
was speeding out of the city, on their way to a real country 
farm. As the piles of brick buildings were left behind, 
and the sky widened and lifted to the great boundless arch 
of blue, Alice raised her wondering eyes to her mother ; 
but when they neared field and woodland, and she saw 
leaves glistening and dancing in the sunlight, water rip- 
pling over pebbly bottoms, white daisies nodding to each 
other by the roadside, her cheeks flushed with excitement, 
and she danced first on one little foot, then on the other, 
for very joy. You happy country children, to whom 
all these things are sweet and natural as the air you 
breathe, can you think what it was to a city child to see 
them all for the very first time } It was a long ride, and 
Alice grew tired. It was dark, and the stars were out, 
when they left the train, and Alice was fast asleep in her 
father's arms. When she opened her sleepy eyes, she 
found herself in a long, low room, where a table was set 
for supper, with the whitest of table-cloths and shining 
ware. Everything was cheery, and bright, and clean, and 
the room was sweet with the fragrance of red roses that 
filled a great jar in the open fireplace, and even climbed 



SECOND WEEK OF OCTOBER. 47 

up outside and peeped in at the open window, as if they, 
too, wished to see and welcome the little visitor. Alice 
lifted her eyes in astonishment, and saw a kind, motherly 
face smiling down at her. She couldn't help smiling back, 
— everybody always smiled back at Aunt Lizzie, — and 
the two were friends at once. 

Oh, how good that supper tasted to little Alice ! Never 
had she eaten such yellow butter, such bread, such straw- 
berries, red, and large, and juicy; and as for the thick, 
golden cream that Aunt Lizzie poured over her berries, our 
Alice had never seen anything like it in all her life. She 
whispered, " Mamma, do we eat custard on our berries } " 

" Bless the dear child ! " said Aunt Lizzie, " has she 
never seen cream before .'' Do you know what a cow is, 
little one t " 

" I saw some in a picture once, and mamma told me 
about them. They give milk." 

" The cow gives you a great many things besides milk, 
little daughter," said her father. 

" How many .'' " she eagerly asked. 

" Let me see your two hands," said Mr. Boyd. 

Alice held them up. " Now spread out all your fingers 
and thumbs. There ! I think you will find that the good 
cow gives you something for each little finger and thumb." 

"Truly, papa ? Will you tell me all about them.-'" 

" You must try to find them out for yourself ; but mam- 
ma, Aunt Lizzie, and I will help you. You can ask us all 
the questions you wish." 

" You shall see the cow to-morrow morning," said Aunt 
Lizzie, "and learn where the milk comes from that you 
will drink for your breakfast." 

Alice's first thought next morning, when the early 



48 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

golden sunbeams touched her eyes and opened them wide, 
was of Aunt Lizzie's promise. She was quickly dressed, 
and ran down stairs and out into the yard. Oh, how lovely 
and fresh was the morning ! 

Alice sat down on a long wooden bench that stood by 
a fence, separating the yard from a great field full of dewy 
grass. She peeped through the bars and wondered what 
made the grass so wet, and then she turned to look at 
Aunt Lizzie standing in the doorway under the climbing 
roses. Something very warm and sweet was breathed 
against her cheek from behind, and she gave a jump and 
looked round. 

" It is one of the cows, our good Lightfoot," said Aunt 
Lizzie ; "she is bidding you good morning." 

Alice looked rather timidly at the great creature with 
shining red sides and big, crumpled horns ; but Lightfoot's 
eyes were so large, and soft, and gentle, and she stood so 
quietly looking over the bars, that Alice soon put up her 
hand to pat her, and again she felt the cow's warm breath, 
sweet as the clover she had been eating. 

" Here comes Luke to milk her," said Aunt Lizzie. 

Luke had a bright tin pail in one hand, and a queer 
little wooden stool in the other. He swung himself over 
the fence, put the stool on the grass beside Lightfoot, and 
seating himself, put his pail under the cow. Alice looked 
wonderingly at the great, soft udder, as Luke took hold 
of the cow's teats, and then clapped her hands with 
delight when the white, foaming milk come streaming into 
the pail. 

"Oh, Aunt Lizzie, Lve seen the real milk coming!" 
shouted Alice. 

"You can count one on your little thumb now; one 



SECOND WEEK OF OCTOBER. 4g 

good thing we can thank the cow for giving us," said her 
father, coming out to enjoy his Httle girl's pleasure. 

Aunt Lizzie brought a pretty china cup ; Luke filled it 
with the warm, new milk for Alice to drink, and she said, 
"Thank you, dear Lightfoot." 

When the pail was nearly full, and Luke was walking 
off with it. Aunt Lizzie said, " Come, little Alice, and see 
what becomes of the milk." Round the house they went 
to a low stone building. Entering, Alice found herself in 
a cool, airy room, where a little spring of water bubbled 
up right in the middle of the stone floor. The walls were 
lined with pans full of milk, and platters holding rolls of 
yellow butter. 

There was something else, white and round, that looked 
very nice, Alice thought, but she did not know its name. 
She saw Luke pour the new milk into shining pans and 
set it away. There were two women here at work. One 
had a shell in her hand, and with it was taking something 
from the top of the milk. "Why, it is the cream!" said 
little Alice ; " but why does she put it in this high tin 
roller .>'" 

"That is a churn," said Aunt Lizzie, "and if you 
watch Molly, you will see what can be made out of milk." 

Alice stayed and talked with Molly, even helping send 
the dasher up and down with her own hands, and was 
delighted to see the cream grow thicker and thicker, till 
the yellow butter began to appear. She held up her fore- 
finger then, and said : " That counts one for the butter, 
doesn't it. Aunt Lizzie.^ I can hold up two fingers now." 

" Come back to the house, and I will show you some- 
thing for the tall middle finger," said Aunt Lizzie. Alice 
tripped along the path, Molly and Aunt Lizzie following 



50 STORIES .1X1) MORNING TALKS. 

with two great pails of milk. These were emptied into a 
tin boiler that stood over the kitchen fire. More milk was 
brought, and after it was heated, Aunt Lizzie put in a 
curious, brownish substance which she told Alice was 
rennet, and came from the stomach of a calf. 

AHce was greatly interested, when after this the milk 
began to grow thick and form curds. She watched Aunt 
Lizzie chop the curds and press them till all the thin liquid 
whey was squeezed out of them, and they were salted and 
pressed in a round, solid form like those in the dairy, each 
cheese being put into a large hoop of wood, until it became 
of the right shape. 

"See! this is a cheese, Alice"; and then kind Aunt 
Lizzie let Alice press and salt a tiny cheese with her own 
hands. How pleased and proud was the little girl when it 
was placed on the supper table, and mamma, papa, and 
even Aunt Lizzie each ate a small piece of Alice's own 
cheese. 

"Does the cow give us anything else to eat.''" she 
asked. 

" All in good time, little daughter," said her papa. 
" You have learned quite enough for one day. Another 
time ring finger shall have a chance to stand up with the 
others." 

Caro a. Dugan. 



THIRD WEEK OE OCTOBER. 51 



Ei)trti SErrk of ©ctofter. 

We have made some very pretty beads, marbles, and 
bird's-nests from the clay, haven't we ? Some of the 
smallest children have tried very hard to make pretty 
things with the clay, and our friends at home have been 
much pleased with the little presents we have made them. 
We like to do things for others, and we know others like 
to do things for us. Some children like to do hard things. 
I've seen very small children button their own boots and 
coats, and weave hard patterns in mats, much preferring 
to help themselves whenever they can. It is good for 
us to think about what others do for us. We should be 
grateful to the shoemaker who makes our shoes ; the 
baker who makes our bread ; the carpenter who builds 
our houses ; and everybody who even speaks pleasantly 
to us. 

There are some things which no man can do for us. 
No man can make the sun shine upon us, and no man can 
bring the rain upon the grass and flowers. No man can 
cause the stars to glow or the moon to shine at night. 

LEATHER. 

Second Story in Series of Object Lessons on the Cow. 

When Alice was getting ready for bed one night she 
asked her father to tell her a story, and as she drank her 
cup of milk she thought of the good cow, and said, "Oh, 
papa ! tell a story for my third finger ; here is milk for my 



52 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

thumb, butter for my first finger, and cheese for my middle 
finger ; my third finger wants something ; I am sure the cow 
can give me something to count on this little ring finger ! " 

"Yes, Alice, I remember a story I read once," said her 
papa, " and I will tell it ; but you must keep your mind 
busy with what I say ; for I think I will make you guess a 
riddle this time. Take off your boots and put them on 
this cricket ; get your slippers and sit here on my knee." 

Alice hurried to do as her papa had bidden, and was 
soon sitting on his knee, earnestly listening to this old and 
oft-repeated story : " There was once a king who had not 
learned how to do many things ; his people knew as little 
as he did about making houses, dishes, or clothes for them- 
selves ; they lived in tents and wore coarse clothes, not yet 
having learned to weave fine cloth. I think they made 
some garments from the bark of trees ; they went with 
bare heads and bare feet all of the time. 

" One day the king's horse fell dead under him, and there 
were no servants with him who were strong enough to 
carry him ; so he was obliged to walk a long distance. 
The sharp stones cut his feet, and the briars pricked and 
tore them, until the king was in a great rage and said he 
would never again leave his tent until the earth should be 
carpeted for his feet. 

" Then all his people began making coarse carpets, and 
at the end of a year they asked him to walk out and try the 
new carpet. He went out, and was greatly pleased ; for 
the earth was so covered with the people's carpets that no 
sticks or stones could touch his feet; but when night 
came, he refused to go back to his tent, but bade them 
make a tent where they were, so he could pursue his jour- 
ney next day. The people were greatly frightened, know- 



THIRD WEEK OF OCTOBER. 53 

ing he would soon come to the end of the carpet if he 
journeyed in this fashion. One of the servants went 
away by himself and spent the night in work ; some of 
them went about crying and wringing their hands ; while 
others made a few yards more of the carpet for the earth 
and hastened to spread it at the end of that already 
finished. Next day when the king came to the end of 
the carpet he was very angry and was going to have all 
the servants beaten, when the one who had worked all 
night came forward, and kneeling before the king, said, 
' Sire, I have a carpet for the whole earth, though none 
but the king may walk upon it.' The king asked if it 
were like the paltry one whose limit he had reached in 
two days, and the servant replied, ' Nay, gracious king ; 
thou canst climb mountains, and thy feet be not bruised ; 
thou canst wander in valleys, and thy feet never be torn 
by brambles ; thou canst tread the burning desert, and thy 
feet remain unscorched.' 'Ah!' cried the king, 'bring 
me that priceless carpet, and half my kingdom shall be 
thine.' " 

"Oh, papa!" said Alice, "did he really have a carpet 
like that .? " 

"There's my riddle, little girl; can you guess how he 
carried such a carpet as that in a sack .'' " 

Alice, answered, " I must think hard," and closing her 
eyes with her hands, she said in a disappointed tone, " He 
must have been a magician " ; but her papa told her he 
was no magician : then she thought again, but could not 
guess, and, opening her eyes, they fell upon her little 
boots on the cricket, and she clapped her hands, and 
shouted, " I know ! I know ! the servant had made the 
king some shoes." "You guessed rightly, my child, and 



54 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

now for your third finger ; why shall we thank the cow for 
shoes ? " Alice took the tiny boot in her hand while her 
father told her that the skin of the cow is used for the 
soles and heels of even cloth boots, and some coarse, 
heavy boots are made entirely of cow-hide. So Alice 
thanked the cow for her milk — there's one for her thumb; 
for butter — there's two for her first finger; for cheese — 
three for her middle finger; and for leather — which makes 
four, for the ring finger. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, good cow ! 
I hope everybody will treat you kindly. 

A LEGEND OF THE GREAT DIPPER. 

The faces of the stars shone so brightly one night that 
the earth children though the Mamma Moon was telling a 
pretty story. And so she was, and this is the story : — 

The Great Dipper, which you, my dear children, so love 
to form, has a deep meaning which you are not to forget 
as long as the stars shine. I will tell you the story as 
often as you ask it, and your asking makes me quite as 
happy as my telling can make you. 

See the dear baby stars running to make a small dipper, 
like their older sisters ! said the Lady Moon softly to the 
great Mars, who bent over her chair as she spoke. 

In another world than ours, continued the Lady Moon, 
there was once a great trouble and sorrow. No, it was 
not in the earth world, my dear, she said to a tiny star 
who always asked questions ; it was not in the heaven 
world either, but in another far-away world, where many 
children lived. For some good reason, which -only the 
Father knows, the people and children, the animals and 



THIRD WEEK OF OCTOBER. 55 

every living thing, were suffering great thirst ; and no 
water, nor dew, nor drop of moisture could they find 
anywhere. 

It was very horrible, and the people were very near 
death. 

A little child of that world went out alone in the dry, 
dark night, carrying a small tin dipper, and prayed very 
earnestly for just that little cup of water ; and when she 
lifted the cup, it was brimming with clear, cold water, 
which would not spill, though she ran rapidly, her hand 
trembling with her faintness ; for she did not taste the 
water, having prayed for another's need. As she ran, she 
stumbled and fell, for she was very weak ; and when feel- 
ing about, trying to rise, she touched a little dog that 
seemed to be dying of its thirst, and the good child poured 
a few drops of the precious water in the palm of her hand 
and let the dog lap it. He seemed as much refreshed as 
if he had drank from a river. 

The child could not see what happened to her cup ; but 
we saw, and sang for joy. The cup turned to silver, and 
grew larger, the water not having become less, but more, 
by her giving. 

She hurried on to give the water to one who was quite 
unable to come to meet her, — none other than her own 
dear mamma, who took the water eagerly, as one in a 
deadly fever of thirst, but without putting it to her lips ; 
for she heard just then a weak moan which came from the 
faithful servant who tried to raise her mistress' head, but 
found she had not the strength. The mother pressed the 
dipper into the hands of the maid, and bade her drink, 
feeling her own life so wasted that one little cup of water 
could not renew it. And neither maid-servant nor mis- 



56 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

tress noticed that the clipper changed from silver to gold, 
and grew larger than before. The good servant was about 
to give each member of the family one spoonful of the 
precious water, when a stranger entered, dressed in a cos- 
tume unknown in that country, and speaking in a strange 
tongue, but showing the same signs of thirst and distress 
as themselves. The maid-servant said, " Sacred are the 
needs of the stranger in a strange land," and pressed the 
dipper to the parched lips of the fainting man. 

Then the great wonder was wrought ! and the golden 
dipper flashed forth incrusted with the most precious dia- 
monds, containing a fountain of gushing water, which sup- 
plied the thirsting nation as freely and surely as it had 
quenched the thirst of the little dog. 

And the Stranger stood before them a glorious, radiant 
Being ; and as he faded from their sight, a silver trumpet 
tone was heard to proclaim : — 

"Blessed is he that giveth a cup of water in My name." 

And the possession of a dipper blazing with diamonds 
is, in that country, a sure badge of royalty ; for no one can 
buy or receive one as a gift, nor can fathers bequeath them 
to children. 

Each child is given a tin dipper at its birth, and only by 
purely unselfish acts can the diamond one be wrought. 

Some of the foolish people have not yet learned its 
secret, and they go about trying to exchange their tin for 
silver, by doing kind things. Sometimes they accuse the 
Father of All very bitterly, because they grow old possess- 
ing only the tin dipper ; for the secret of the exchange can 
no more be told than the beautiful, flashing, sparkling dia- 
monds can be purchased. Sometimes there are great sur- 
prises, when people give up the hope of such a possession, 



THIRD IVEEK OF OCTOBER. 



57 



and forget themselves ; for then they often find the cast- 
away tin bearing evidence in silver, gold, or even dia- 
monds, that they have become royal ; but by that time 
they have no vanity because of their fortune. Only mod- 
est, thankful, brave, happy feelings possess the owners of 
diamond dippers. 

The Lady Moon now lifted a white finger toward the 
east, which was growing rosy, and the baby stars all knelt 
a moment, looking like white-robed nuns at prayers. Then 
the morning wind swept aside the great blue, silken cur- 
tain of the sky, and the Mamma Moon followed her chil- 
dren into Heaven, to do or play whatever the Father had 
planned for them while they were out shining for his 
earth children. 



58 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

JFourtf) SEeeft of ©ctoljfr. 

[Provide a bit of broken plaster for examination.] 

Let us find, all the things in this room that were made 
for us by others. 

Tables made by the cabinet-maker, from wood which 
the trees furnish. 

Chairs, flower-pots, vases, curtains, etc., etc. 

[The teacher, of course, leaves the finding of most articles to the 
children, and as each is found, a little sketch of its manufacture is 
given. 

If the story of the Cow is to be told, the observations will not be 
given up until the plaster on the walls is noticed.] 

HAIR AND BONES. 

Third Story in Series of Object Lessons on the Cow. 

It was sunset, and Alice sat in the doorway under the 
roses, watching for Luke, who had gone to the pasture 
after Lightfoot and the other cows. Aunt Lizzie had a good 
many cows, — old Brindle and Pet and Jessie and White 
Lily and Brown Bess and Short-horns and Bell, — but Alice 
liked Lightfoot best of all, and every night watched for 
her coming, and stood by Luke's milking-stool with her 
little cup to get a drink of new milk. This night Alice 
watched and waited in vain, for Luke did not come. The 
rosy sunset glow faded out of the sky ; it grew darker, and 
here and there a star peeped out, but still Luke did not 
come. 



FOURTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. 59 

"Alice, it is bedtime now," called her mother, and with 
a sigh of disappointment the little girl climbed the stairs 
to her room, and began to prepare for bed. While her 
mother was brushing out her long, soft hair, Alice heard a 
familiar voice, and flew to the window. There stood Luke, 
telling Aunt Lizzie that the bars of the great pasture were 
down, and the cows all gone. He had had a long tramp, 
but could not find them. " I will mount Tita at sunrise 
to-morrow and have another hunt," said Luke. 

" Oh, may I go with you .-' " cried Alice ; " can't two ride 
on Tita.^" 

Luke looked up, smiling to see the little white figure at 
the window, its bright hair blowing in the night breeze, 
and answered, " Oh, yes, Tita wouldn't mind carrying us 
both on her strong back ; I'll take you if your mother is 
willing." 

" Wouldn't she be a trouble to you 1 " asked Mrs. Boyd. 

"Oh, no!" said Luke, smiling again. He and Alice 
were great friends. 

" Oh, my dear Lightfoot ! " said the child, as she nestled 
down in her little bed. " Mamma, do you think Lightfoot 
is lonesome way off there in the dark } " 

" No, little daughter ; you forget that Brindle and Jessie 
and Short-horns and the others are all with her, and I 
don't think she minds the darkness, while she has plenty 
of soft grass to lie upon. Only think how pleased she will 
be to see her little mistress coming for her in the morning." 
So Alice went to sleep with happy thoughts, after all. 
Very early next morning she rode out of the yard, seated 
before Luke on Tita's broad back. At first, when the 
horse's great shoulders began to move under her, Alice was 
a little afraid, and clung fast to Luke, feeling almost as if 



6o STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

she were on a moving mountain ; but siie soon became 
used to the motion and felt safe and happy. 

The eastern sky was full of golden light that grew and 
deepened until the great sun came in sight, and then how 
the dewy fields glistened and shone ! Alice laughed with 
delight when she saw the silvery spider webs shining like 
little fairy tents in the wet grass, — "Sign of a fine day," 
Luke told her, — and the dear white daisies nodding good 
morning to the sun, and when they rode through woods 
where low-hanging branches sent showers of bright drops 
in their faces. 

On they went through woodland and along the river, 
and at last far off across the river meadows they heard the 
faint tinkle of a bell. 

"That is old Brindle's bell ! " said Luke. 

Tita pricked up her ears and trotted merrily on, and in 
a few moments they saw the horns of old Lightfoot her- 
self. How glad Alice felt then ; she could hardly wait to 
be lifted down from Tita. She threw her arms about 
Lightfoot's neck and hugged and kissed her for joy. What 
do you suppose Luke did .-* He took a tin cup from his 
pocket, saying, " You must be hungry, little Alice, after 
such a long ride," and in a moment he had it filled with 
Lightfoot's fresh milk. It tasted good to Alice, I assure 
you. She began, saying, " Thank you, Lightfoot, for milk, 
thank you for butter, thank you for cheese, thank you for 
leather, thank you again for milk." 

"We are near the Gray's new house," said Luke, look- 
ing off through the trees ; " come with me, and we will find 
how the cow helps us make houses." 

" Does she really .-' " said Alice ; " how can she .-• " 

"Ah, that I will let you find out for yourself." 



FOURTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. 6 1 

A few Steps brought them to the new house. Several 
men were at work on the house. 

"What are they doing.?" said AUce ; "that man is all 
sprinkled with white, — is he painting.'' 

" Not painting, but plastering," said Luke, "making the 
walls warm and tight with plaster, so no cold air can creep 
in next winter to chill the people who will live here." 

Alice watched the spreading on of the wet plaster with 
great interest. 

" Now see if you can find out how the cow helps make 
that plaster," said Luke. 

Alice looked at it, and said doubtfully, " It is white like 
milk, but I shouldn't think milk would make good plaster." 

" It is the lime that is white," said Luke ; " step nearer 
and look very carefully." 

"Why, it is full of funny little hairs, like cow's hairs," 
said Alice. " Oh, I know now ; the good cow gives her hair 
to help make plaster," and up went one of her hands, with 
all the little fingers outspread, while she said, " Now, little 
baby finger, you may stand up with the rest, and thank the 
cow for hair to make plaster. Why do they put it in the 
plaster, Luke } " 

" It holds it together better, and so makes a closer, 
warmer covering for the walls. Now if you come into the 
garden, perhaps we will find something that will make 
Mr. Thumbkin on the other hand stand up." 

" Does the cow help make gardens as well as houses } 
What a good cow ! " said Alice. 

They found the gardener busy sprinkling the earth about 
young plants and vegetables with a kind of white powder. 

"Did that come from the cow.? What is it.?" asked 
Alice. 



62 TORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

"That is pretty hard for you to guess," said Luke. 

" It doesn't look like this," taking a piece of solid white 
bone from his pocket, " but it really is made of the bones 
of the cow, burned and crushed to powder. It makes the 
earth rich, and so helps the plants to grow." 

"Oh, my dear Lightfoot ! " said AHce, when at last, 
mounting Tita, they began to drive the cows homeward, 
" how many things you are good for ! " When they rode 
into Aunt Lizzie's yard, Alice held up two thumbs and 
four little fingers, calling out, "Oh, mamma, papa. Aunt 
Lizzie, — Luke has found me two new things that the cow 
gives us ! " And as Luke lifted her off Tita's back, and 
she ran toward the house, so eager for breakfast, she 
looked back with a bright, friendly smile to say, " Thank 
you, Luke." 

Caro a. Dugan. 

GRANDMA KAOLINE. 

[Illustrate with a little old woman made of clay.] 

I have somebody under my handkerchief to introduce to 
you. It is a very little, very old lady. I will go around 
and introduce all the quiet, polite children to her. "This 
is Grandma Kaoline, Johnny Jones." 

[Grandma Kaoline can be made to bow by bending the finger upon 
which she sits.] 

You will see that Grandma Kaoline is made of clay. I 
am going to tell you a strange and wonderful story about 
Grandma Kaoline. 

The clay of which she is made was found down in the 
ground, in what people call a clay bed, or clay bank ; some- 
times it is called a clay mine. Grandma Kaoline is so 



FOURTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. 63 

very, very old, that while we talk about the clay, we will 
let her take a nap under my handkerchief — perhaps she 
will like that as well as some longer naps she has had in 
her other bed, underground. 

Thousands of years ago, when the earth was very young 
— yes, millions of years ago, before little children came to 
live upon this beautiful earth, even before the earth had 
grown so beautiful, — there was no clay here with which to 
make pretty things. 

If Grandma Kaoline could take you by the hand, and 
lead you back to that time, the world would look so strange 
to you that you would cry to come back to kindergarten. 
Grandma Kaoline could show you nothing but great rocks 
and oceans, with a few rivers of water. There were no 
birds, nor trees, nor flowers anywhere on the whole earth. 
The Careful Gardener had not made them yet, but he 
knew he should send some little children to live here 
some day, and there were many things to be made for 
them, one of which was this clay. Great rocks were 
thrown up into the air by earthquakes ; they were tossed 
into the rivers by winds ; they were pushed and knocked 
together until they became smooth as glass ; then they 
were thrown into the air, as if a giant were playing ball 
with them, and their smooth sides broken until rough 
again. They were rolled down mountains^ and washed in 
rivers, until they were ground to powder finer than flour. 

This fine powder, ground from the rocks, was carried 
by the water into low places in the earth, and then it was 
laid to rest in cool, dark beds while something else was 
done by the Gardener, who took care of everything. 

I cannot tell you all that was done for us before we 
came ; but you shall hear of more wonderful things than 



64 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

this at another time; now we are only to talk about the 
powdered stones which lay in cool, dark, damp beds thou- 
sands of years, becoming clay at last instead of stone. 

[Show a bit of granite.] 

Do you think we could make this hard stone into soft 
clay ? 

Was it not kind of the Gardener to do for us what we 
eould not do for ourselves ? 



FIFTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. 65 



jFtftt) SEfcfe of ©rtotier. 

Are we not happy children, since we can do so much for 
each other and for our mammas ? Even the birds and 
fiowers seem happier for our happiness. 

Did anybody help you to dress this morning? Who 
buttoned your boots ? Who brushed your hair ? What 
did you do to help ? Even the baby can help, by taking 
its bath without crying ; I have seen little kindergarten 
children help very much by keeping quiet while having 
their hair brushed, and no one but mamma knows how 
much it helps for a little child to know just where it hung 
its hat and coat the last time it was worn. 

[If the story of the Cow is to be told, the children may be brought 
into a state of wonder as to how the Cow could have helped them in 
getting ready for kindergarten.] 

GRANDMA KAOLINE'S STORY. 

You have heard a story about Grandma Kaoline, and 
now Grandma Kaoline may tell you a story about herself. 
We will play that Grandma Kaoline can talk, and you may 
listen to her. 

I think these little children will learn to listen to the 
stories that the flowers and rocks, the grass and shells, 
have to tell. 

" Once I lay in a bed which was larger than your crib, 
larger than your mother's. bed, larger than this house; yes, 
larger than the whole city of Boston. My bed was down 



66 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

under the water, and I wondered what would ever be done 
with it. I wondered a great many years, and all the time 
I was wondering the bed was growing larger, until one 
day it was pushed up out of the earth, and lay in the sweet 
sunshine — to air, I supposed. 

It was lying there so soft, and cool, and smooth, when 
some strange-looking people came along. They were not 
riding in carriages ; for they had not yet learned to make 
carriages. They were not riding on horses ; for they had 
not yet learned to tame the horses, which were wilder than 
any untamed horse you ever saw. They were all walk- 
ing. Their feet were bare ; for they had not yet learned 
to make shoes for themselves. They wore but few clothes, 
and what they did wear were made of the skins of animals ; 
for they had not yet learned to make cloth. 

"They were thirsty, but they had no dishes from which 
to drink; for they had not yet learned to make dishes. 
So they dipped their hands in the pools, and drank 
from the little cup which we can all make in the palms of 
our hands. 

" A very pretty woman with a very pretty baby made a 
cup for the baby from a large leaf. While she was getting 
the leaf she left the baby standing on the cool bed of 
clay ; and when she came back to take him up, there 
were the prints of his two pretty feet, with each little toe 
as perfect as could be. The woman looked at the little 
cups made by the pretty baby feet ; then she kissed the 
dimpled feet, tossed the baby over her shoulder, and went 
with the other people, who wandered around the country, 
not knowing how to do much of anything, but learning 
a little every day. 

"After a long time these same people came back to the 



FIFTH WFEK OF OCTOBER. 6/ 

same place where the baby had stood in the clay bed, and 
what do you suppose the baby's mother saw ? The two 
little cups made by baby feet had become quite firm and 
hard in the sunshine ; and baby's father and mother both 
shouted, ' Look ! look ! Why can we not make dishes 
from this stuff ? ' The people ran like children, filled their 
hands with the soft clay, and made deep dishes, like vases, 
in which they could keep their seeds and grain ; for they 
soon learned that water would make their new dishes 
crumble in pieces. After a long, long time somebody 
threw an old vase into the fire — the fires, you must know, 
were built upon the ground ; for the people had not yet 
learned to make stoves, nor had they learned to make 
matches. It was therefore so hard to kindle a fire, when 
it went out, that they took great pains to keep one burn- 
ing as long as they stayed in a place ; and it was in one of 
these fires which burned many days that the old vase was 
thrown. You will see that the vase must have been well 
baked before the people went away to learn something 
else in their wanderings ; but not knowing that a baked 
vase was any better than an unbaked one, they left it in 
the ashes. After a very long time they came again to this 
place, having learned to take better care of their babies, 
and to make better things for their own dinners. Some- 
body picked up the vase from the ashes, and found that it 
was very hard and smooth. They poured some water in 
it, and the water did not make it crumble ; then they 
knew they could make dishes by baking the clay in a very 
hot fire, and they danced and shouted for joy that dishes 
could be made to hold milk and water. They built great 
fires and made more dishes than they could use ; they 
amused themselves by making pictures on the unbaked 



68 STOK/ES AND MORNING TALKS. 

dishes, with sharp sticks. These pictures would remain, 
of course. Sometimes we find one of these old dishes 
now. After many hundred years they learned to make 
china cups and saucers. They learned many other useful 
things ; so that now, we, who are their great-great-great- 
great-great-great-grandchildren, live in good houses, have 
good clothes and good food, and are still learning how to 
use the things which the Careful Gardener has placed 
here for us." 

[An impression strongly resembling a baby's foot can be made in 
the clay by doubling the hand and pressing the inside of the fist into 
the clay, the toes being added by indenting with the fingers. Showing 
these cups to the children increases their interest in the subject ; and 
firing some of their best work, which can be done at trifling expense, 
will give them a living interest in, and knowledge of, pottery. A visit 
to a museum, where some ancient pottery may be seen, is also of great 
value to the eager learners.] 



HORN. 

Fourth Story in Series of Object Lessons on the Cow. 

One day Alice came into the house bringing a bit of 
broken comb to her mother and asked how it happened 
to be such a light color, while her comb was black. Her 
mother asked her if she did not think it might be an old 
black comb faded ; but Alice felt sure it could not be, for 
she had seen old black combs that were not faded, though 
they had lain for weeks in the sun and rain. Then her 
mother laughed, and said, " You have found something 
now for the pointing finger of your left hand ; and if you 
can name the six things for which you have learned to 
thank the cow, we will go out to the pasture to see if you 



FIFTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. 69 

can find what the cow gives us that can be used in making 
combs." 

AHce held up her thumb and fingers and counted very 
rapidly : — 

" Mother Thumb, thank the cow for milk ; that is one. 

" Father Pointing Finger, thank the cow for butter ; 
that is two. 

" Brother Middle Finger, thank the cow for cheese ; 
that is three. 

" Sister Ring Finger, thank the cow for leather ; that 
is four. 

" Little Baby Finger, thank the cow for hair for plaster ; 
that is five. 

" Mrs. Thumbkin, thank the cow for bones to make the 
plants grow ; that is six." 

" You remember well, Alice ; come now with me and 
learn what part of the cow is made into combs." 

Alice tied on her sun hat, and putting her hand in that 
of her mother she went out to the field of clover, where 
Lightfoot was standing under a tree, chewing her cud. 
Alice had never noticed Lightfoot's chewing before, except 
when she was nibbling the clover, and she went close to 
her head, and said, " Oh, Lightfoot ! mamma says chew- 
ing gum is not a nice habit ! " I do not think Lightfoot 
minded Alice's reproof, but she swallowed what she was 
chewing and began to smell at Alice's pocket, which 
pleased Alice greatly, for she had something in that 
pocket for the cow, but she had not expected the cow to 
find it so soon. 

" What do you think Alice took to the cow in her 
pocket .-' " 

"Clover?" 



JO STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

" No ; there was all the clover in the pasture that the 
cow needed." 

" Sugar ? " 

" No ; the cow did not care for sugar, but it was some- 
thing white and fine like sugar." 

"Salt?" 

"Yes; it was salt." Alice had learned that cows are 
very fond of salt ; and when she took a handful from her 
pocket she laughed to feel the cow's rough tongue as she 
licked the salt from her hand. 

Lightfoot was a gentle cow, and Alice thought her 
big brown eyes were beautiful. When the salt was all 
gone, and Lightfoot gave a last kiss to the little hand, 
Alice threw her arms about the good cow, and said, " You 
dear old bossy cow, where do you keep combs .-' I'd like 
to learn. I've seen you comb your own glossy hair with 
your tongue, but your tongue does not look like this 
comb," and she took the bit of comb from her pocket and 
held it up before the cow, who did not act as if she had 
ever before seen a comb, or cared whether she should ever 
see another ; in fact, she gave an odd little sound in her 
throat as if she were going to say something about the salt, 
and up popped her cud, which she began chewing again as 
if Alice had never rebuked her about it. 

This surprised Alice very much, and she asked her 
mother where Lightfoot kept her food .'' Mrs. Boyd then 
told her that cows and some other animals chewed their 
food several times before it was taken deep into their 
stomachs ; that they swallowed it into a place called the 
first stomach, where they let it lie until they wanted it, 
when it could be raised for another chewing. 

"That would be a nice arrangement for little girls who 



FIFTH WEEK OF OCTOBER. /I 

like Strawberries and ice-cream so much," said Alice ; but 
her mother reminded her that she must find that part of 
the cow which looked most Hke the comb about which they 
had come to learn. 

" I see ! I know ! " said Alice ; " her horns look almost 
like this comb ! " -iv 

" Yes," said her mother ; " when the life goes out of the 
cow's body, her horns are sent to a place where they are 
made into combs ; so you see the cow serves us as long as 
she lives, and then she leaves us her body to use. I think 
some lazy people would be put to shame if they honestly 
compared themselves with Lightfoot. I hope my little 
girl will never become one of those women who serve no 
purpose in life." Alice could now count seven fingers, and 
she pointed the seventh at the cow and shook it playfully, 
saying, "Thank you, cow, for horn for combs." 

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. 

A Hare one day made himself merry over the slow pace 
of the Tortoise, and vainly boasted of his own great speed 
in running. 

The Tortoise took the laugh in good part. " Let us try 
a race," she said ; " I will run with you five miles, and the 
Fox shall be the judge." 

The Hare agreed, and away they started together. 

The Tortoise never stopped for a moment, but jogged 
along with a slow, steady pace, straight to the end of the 
course. 

But the Hare, full of sport, first outran the Tortoise, 
then fell behind ; having come half-way to the goal, he 
began to nibble at the grass, and to play with other Hares 



72 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

at hide and seek. After a while, the day being warm, and 
being tired with play, he lay down for a nap, saying, " If 
she should go by, I could easily enough catch up with her 
and pass her." 

When the Hare awoke, the Tortoise was not in sight ; 
and ri ning as fast as he could he found her at her goal, 
comfortably dozing, while the Fox stood waiting to tell the 
Hare he had lost the race. 

From /Esoi''b Fables. 

[This story can be illustrated vith clay animals, — after which the 
children can each model a Hare and a Tortoise. The most unskilful 
can represent the long-eared Hare, and the Tortoise is very easily 
modelled.] 



FIRST WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 73 



jFirst SEeek of Wobember, 

When we break a toy or a chair, or anything made of 
wood, can we mend it with needle and thread as wt^'mend 
our dresses when we tear them ? Is it a neat way to mend 
a broken chair with nails and hammer ? Look at the 
tables and chairs, and see if they are fastened together 
with nails. , 

[A chair may be made with the blocks of the third gift, and a table 
with those of the fourth gift, or with any bits of blocks that have been 
contributed. 

Some of the older children might put on the glue (not mucilage), 
and the miniature piece of furniture be set away to dry. 

This exercise and lesson will afford both amusement and instruction, 
whether used as a preparation for the fifth story of the Cow or not.] 

GLUE. 

Fifth Story in Series of Okject Lessons on the Cow. 

Alice had a doll that she thought was the best and dear- 
est doll in the world. Her mother gave it to her when 
she was quite a little girl, and she had always taken as 
good care of it as if it were a real, live baby. The doll had 
a china head, its hair was yellow, its eyes brown, and its 
cheeks very pink. It had two white dresses and a great 
many sashes, made out of bits of ribon given to Alice from 
time to time. 

It had a tiny straw hat trimmed with brown ribbon 
and a bit of brown feather, to wear when it went out to 
walk, and a pretty white nightdress to put on at night. 



74 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

The good Luke had made a dainty Uttle bedstead for 
Alice, and Aunt Lizzie had given her a mattress, and 
sheets, and pillows, and a blanket and quilt ; so every 
night when Alice went to bed, the dolly went too, and slept 
in its own wee bed beside its little mother. 

One morning, after breakfast, Alice said, "Now, Gret- 
chen," — that was the doll's name, — "we have a great 
deal to do this morning. We must help Aunt Lizzie make 
butter, and we must help Luke pick the strawberries for 
dinner. Only you mustn't cat many, Gretchen, while you 
are picking, — only two, three, five you may eat." 

Gretchen looked very smiling, as if it mattered little 
how few strawberries she had, as long she was with Alice. 
Round the house they went, following the little foot-path 
to the dairy, where it was so cool and pleasant. Alice 
liked to go there often to see the sweet, yellow butter 
made from Lightfoot's milk. I think it helped Aunt 
Lizzie more to see her happy little face, and hear her talk 
to Gretchen, than even when Alice's little hands took hold 
of the churn dasher and made it go up and down, to " rest " 
Aunt Lizzie. After the butter came, and Molly was busy 
working and salting it, Alice and Gretchen went to the 
garden and helped Luke hunt for strawberries under the 
green leaves. Alice worked very busily, and I don't 
believe she ate more than the two, three, five berries she 
had promised Gretchen, she was so eager to fill her tin 
pail. 

How glad she felt when it was heaped to the brim with 
rich, red berries, and she could take it to the house to 
show mother and Aunt Lizzie ! She walked up to the 
door, carrying the pail carefully in one hand, and holding 
Gretchen with the other. Her mother came to meet her, 



FIRST WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 75 

asking, " Did my little girl pick all those strawberries her- 
self ? " Before Alice could answer, she hit her foot 
against the great, flat door-stone, and over she went, the 
strawberries rolling in every direction in the grass, and 
what was far worse, Gretchen falling on the big stone with 
such force that the pretty china head was knocked com- 
pletely off her body. 

Alice cried when she picked herself up and saw poor 
little headless Gretchen. " Never mind, dear ; we will ask 
the good cow to help us, and we shall have Gretchen all 
right again before long." Alice was so astonished that 
she stopped crying, to ask, " Why, mamma, do you mean 
that the cow can really put my Gretchen's head on again .'' " 

" Yes, Alice ; I think Gretchen's fall will give your tall 
middle finger a chance to stand up with the others." 

With her mother's help Alice picked up the scattered 
berries, none the worse for their roll on the soft grass, and 
then the two went into the house, and Mrs. Boyd asked 
Aunt Lizzie where she kept her glue. 

" Glue, mamma .-' " said Alice ; " that is what papa used 
to mend chairs with ; does the cow give us that } " 

"Yes," said her mother; "it is made from the cow's 
hoofs. After the cow dies, her hoofs are washed and 
cleansed and made into this brown sticky glue." 

While she was talking, Alice's mother was spreading the 
glue with a brush on the rough edges of poor Gretchen's 
neck. Then she took the head and pressed it carefully and 
firmly down into place again. Alice danced about, exclaim- 
ing, " My dear Gretchen ! may I have her now, mamma .'* " 

" No, dear ; we must put her away till to-morrow, when 
the glue will be dry and hard. Now let me see how many 
fingers you can hold up." 



^6 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

Up went one little hand, and Alice said, "Thumbkin, 
thank the cow for milk ; Pointer, for butter ; Middle Man, 
for cheese ; Ring Man, for leather ; Little Man, for hair. 
Now the other hand. Thumbkin, thank the cow for bones; 
Pointer, for horn ; and Middle Man, for glue. Only two 
more fingers ! I wonder what they will tell me ! Oh, 
mamma ! I love Lightfoot better and better every day. 
I will make something for her now while I am waiting 
for Gretchen." 

What do you think it was } It was made of white daisies, 
and was something Lightfoot could wear. Yes, it was a 
chain for her neck, — a long, beautiful dai.sy chain. 

Alice worked hard, and had it all ready when Lightfoot 
came to be milked ; and as Luke lifted her up so she could 
throw the chain over the cow's horns, she said as fast as 
her little tongue could say it, "Thank you, thank you, 
thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, 
th;^nk you, dear good Lightfoot ! " 

Can you tell me why she thanked the good cow eight 
times .'' 

CaRO a. UlGAN. 



SECOND WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 77 



<Srconti W^it\ of Nobrmbcr, 

By and by we shall have a holiday. Some of us will go 
away to see our grandmothers or our cousins, and some of 
us will stay at home and perhaps have friends come to 
visit us. But whatever we do, we must remember why we 
have no schools or kindergartens on that Thursday, and 
why all the stores are closed so that everybody can rest or 
play for one day. 

It is so that everybody may Jiave thne to say, " / t//afik 
you " to our Best Friend. 

[The familiar Thanksgiving song, " Over the hills and far away," may 
be dramatized, greatly to the dehght of the children, especially if the 
teacher will wear a cap and glasses to personate the grandmother. 
" How the Sparrows were fed on Thanksgiving Day," by Miss Laliah 
B. Pingree, may be told the children. Miss Pingree lives in Boston, 
and was superintendent of the kindergartens for many years, having 
herself taught in a kindergarten at Jamaica Plain before being connected 
with all the kindergartens of the city. This story was written for the 
children of Boston, at the urgent request of many of the teachers, and it 
admirably supplied a long-felt need for a good Thanksgiving story. Its 
results were widespread and lasting. No doubt the little contributions 
for tlie birds are still made in many kindergartens.] 



THANKSGIVING STORY. 

It was nearly time for Thanksgiving Day. 

The rosy apples and golden pumpkins were ripe, and the 
farmer was bringing them into the markets. One day 
when two little children named John and Mary were going 



78 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

to school, they saw the turkeys and chickens and pumpkins 
in the window of a market, and exclaimed : — 

" Oh, Thanksgiving Day ! " 

" Oh, Thanksgiving Day ! " 

And after school was over they ran home to their 
mother and asked her when Thanksgiving Day would be. 

She told them in about two weeks ; then they began to 
talk about what they wanted for dinner, and asked their 
mamma a great many questions. She told them she hoped 
they would have turkey and even the pumpkin pie they 
wanted so much, but Thanksgiving Day was not given us 
that we might have a good dinner, but that God had been 
a great many days and weeks preparing for Thanksgiving. 
He had sent the sunshine and the rain and caused the 
grains and fruits and vegetables to grow ; and Thanks- 
giving Day was for glad and happy thoughts of God, as 
well as for good things to eat. 

Not long after, when John and Mary were playing, 
Johnnie said to Mary : — 

" I wish I could do something to tell God how glad I am 
about Thanksgiving Day." And Mary said, " I wish so 
too." 

Just then some little birds came flying down to the 
ground near them, and Mary said, "Oh, I know! " Then 
she told Johnnie ; but they agreed to keep it a secret until 
the day came. 

Now, what do you think they did .-' I will tell you. 
They saved \\iQ\x pennies and bought some corn, and early 
Thanksgiving Day, before they had their dinner, they went 
out into the street near their home and scattered corn in a 
great many places. What for } For the birds. 

While they were doing it, Johnnie said, " I know, Mary, 



SECOND WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 79 

why you thought of the birds ; because they do not have 
any mammas or papas after they are grown up to get a 
dinner for them on Thanksgiving Day"; and Mary said, 
"Yes." 

By and by the birdies came and found such a feast ! and 
perhaps they knew something about Thanksgiving Day, 
for they sung and chirped happily all day. 

Laliah B. Pingree. 

[A brief historical sketch of Thanksgiving Day may be told the 
children who are old enough to comprehend it.] 

STEAK AND TALLOW. 

Sixth Story in Series of Object Lessons on the Cow. 

Alice had been promised a real picnic in the woods, and 
the day after her doll was so beautifully mended with the 
glue, the family began making ready for the "woods 
party," as Alice chose to call it. 

You may be sure Lightfoot gave her share for the 
dinner : her milk helped to make the buns ; her butter 
helped to make the cake ; her cheese was packed beside 
the doughnuts which Aunt Lizzie made, and in the morn- 
ing when the family rock-a-way was driven to the door, 
Alice was so happy that she could hardly wait for the 
others to get their places. She took the little seat which 
seemed made for her and shouted to her papa to be sure 
to get the jug of cream ; to her mamma, not to forget the 
milk ; to the pony, not to overturn the rock-a-way while she 
ran back to the house to get her doll, who would cry her 
blue eyes blind if she were left at home : then she ran up 
and down stairs, to the cellar and garret, just because she 
was too happy to stand or sit still while the grown folks 



8o STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

were packing the luncheon. Finally they were quite ready 
to start, and the pony trotted briskly off, not seeming to 
mind Alice's " whoas " or "go alongs " any more than he 
did the doll's hold of the ends of the reins. 

Alice looked surprised when her father stopped at a 
meat market in the little village and took her in while he 
bought a few pounds of tender steak; but he said, "That's 
for your lesson out in the woods to-day." Alice was glad 
to have the promise of a lesson from her father, for his 
lessons were always easy to learn, she thought. 

They drove over a straight road that made Alice think 
of a wide sash ribbon, it looked so smooth and long ; then 
they turned into a shaded road that wound along the bank 
of a pretty little river, and Alice got out of the rock-a-way 
a dozen times to pick a handful of flowers. There were 
wild purple asters, bright golden-rod, and brilliant red flow- 
ers upon slender stems that Alice had never seen before : 
her father told her it was cardinal flower, and he was 
much pleased that she remembered the name. 

When they left the river bank, they climbed a rocky 
hill, where the pony was taken from the harness and given 
some oats, which they had not forgotten to bring ; for 
Alice's father was kind to horses as well as to children. 

They found a bright little spring of clear, cold water 
bubbling up between two great rocks ; they found a flat 
rock which served for a table, and while Mrs. Boyd and 
Aunt Lizzie were setting the table, Mr. Boyd gathered 
some pine needles and dry branches, with which he kindled 
a fire beside a great rock : he then cut a slender green 
bush, and trimming off its leaves, made one end of it quite 
sharp, upon which he held the meat in the fire. Alice grew 
hungry as she smelled the sweet odor of the roasting meat, 



SECOND WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 8 1 

and asked her papa to hurry a Httle with the lesson, or she 
should get too hungry to listen. Mr. Boyd cut off a bit 
of the meat and gave it to her, saying perhaps she would 
remember without much talking that she was to thank the 
cow for the steak, as it was part of a cow, her life having 
gone out and left her fiesh for our use. 

Alice counted her fingers again ; " Thank you, cow, for 
milk, butter, cheese, leather, hair, bones, horn, glue, and 
steak." 

When the meat was all roasted, they took it to the table, 
and agreed that such roast beef as that made the picnic 
dinner the best they ever ate. Alice made them laugh by 
saying it was the best picnic feast she ever saw. She had 
never been to a picnic before, and she could not see why 
she should not call it the best. 

When they started home, Mr. Boyd said, " Let's drive 
around the other way home, so we may see new sights." 
And Alice was very happy to go a new way ; but after they 
had driven several hours, and things looked newer and 
stranger, Aunt Lizzie said they would do better to find 
the home road, she thought, and Mr. Boyd said, "Just 
what I've been trying to do more than an hour ! " 

And they all confessed that they knew nothing about 
the road they ought to take to get home. 

Alice woke her doll to ask if she knew the way home ; 
but she did not know, and having been asleep, had a good 
excuse for being lost. 'She asked the pony if he knew the 
way home, and he neighed as if he wished he were there, 
but could not tell them where to go. It grew late, and 
Mr. Boyd said they would stop at the next farmhouse and 
stay all night if it were too far for them to drive home. 

Alice was pleased with the prospect of spending the 



82 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

night in a new place, and hoped there would be a little 
girl who had a doll in the next farmhouse. 

The next house was rather small, but there was a little 
girl and a doll, and a bed to spare for the strangers. 

Alice thought it great fun for her papa to sleep on a 
sofa in the sitting-room ; for there was no bed for him. The 
little girl who lived in the farmhouse was named Ruth, 
and she offered her crib to Alice and her doll. 

When it grew dark, Alice was very much surprised to 
find that there was neither gas nor lamps in the house, 
but she was too polite to ask questions about it. Ruth's 
mamma, however, lighted several candles, so that the room 
was very pleasant, and after she had lighted Ruth's white- 
haired grandmother to her room and kissed her good night, 
she came back to say that grandma was so much afraid of 
lamp explosions that they had never used one, though the 
candles gave rather a dim light. Alice's mamma said a 
house with love in it like that could never be dimly lighted. 

Alice thought she might ask Ruth how candles were 
made, and Ruth was very happy to tell her how they used 
the fatty part of cow's flesh. Alice forgot where she was, 
and jumped up, clapping her hands and shouting, " That's 
ten ! that's ten ! " 

"Ten what.-*" asked Ruth. 

" Why, ten things for which to thank the cow," answered 
Alice ; " but please go on and tell me all about it." 

Ruth brought in some tin candle-moulds and a ball of 
cotton called wicking, and showed Alice how the wicking 
should be threaded into the moulds, and the melted beef's 
tallow or fat poured in and then cooled, after which the 
candles could be drawn out of the long tin horns, as Alice 
called them. 



SECOND WEEK OE NOVEMBER. 83 

Alice then told Ruth about the ten things the cow gives 
us, — milk, butter, cheese, leather, hair, bones, horn, glue, 
steak, and tallow. 

The girls then played a game called "blow out the candle." 
Ruth shut her eyes and walked three steps backward from 
the candle, turned around three times and took three steps 
forward, and then tried three times to blow the candle out ; 
but when she opened her eyes, she found she had been 
blowing at the door-knob. Alice tried it, and found she 
walked toward her mother, and had been puffing at her 
back hair instead of the candle, as she supposed. 

The girls amused themselves in this way until bed-time ; 
and the next morning when Alice started for home, — in 
the right road this time, — Ruth's mamma promised them 
that Ruth should come to make Alice and Lightfoot a 
visit before many weeks. 



84 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 



5rf)trt( SEcrfe of Wobrmtier* 

Do you remember about the first week of kindergarten, 
how warm it was, — so warm that you came without any 
wraps ? Now what do you wear ? 

The birds have gone to the warm country ; we have 
fires in furnaces, grates, and stoves. Apples and pears 
are ripe and have been gathered ; the farmer has his 
corn and wheat in the barns, and is making the sheds 
warmer for his sheep and cows. For what do you think 
we are getting ready .'' 

Some animals go to sleep when winter comes, and 
remain sleeping during the cold weather. 

Bears, woodchucks, snakes, and toads sleep many weeks 
at a time ; some of them in holes in the ground, and some 
of them in hollow trees. 

This is a good time for us to think about what we can 
do for others. There are some people who do not think 
much about themselves, but are always trying to make 
somebody else happy ; and some people have even spent 
their lives in trying to make horses, dogs, and cattle com- 
fortable, and preventing others from hurting them. One 
man, who lived in New York, was so distressed on seeing 
the cattle crowded into cars without enough to eat or 
drink, that he determined to make them more comfortable ; 
and now when cattle are shipped from one state to another, 
they have more room and plenty of air, food, and water. 
This same kind-hearted man could not sleep nights be- 
cause he saw horses made to draw loads that were too 



rinKD WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 85 

heavy for them ; and he talked about it to everybody he 
saw, and wrote about it in the newspapers, until others 
felt as he did ; and now there is a society in nearly every 
city, which, prevents unkindness to the animals. This 
good man's name was Henry Bergh, and every little boy 
and girl can help to make the world better and happier by 
being kind to stray kittens and dogs, and persuading other 
boys and girls to be fair with them. 

STORY OF THREE BEARS. 

Once upon a time there were Three Bears. They lived 
together in a house of their own in a wood. 

One of them was a Little Small Wee Beer ; and one was a 
Middle-sized Bear; and the other was a Great Huge Bear. 

They had each a pot for their porridge : a little pot for 
the Little Small Wee Bear ; and a middle-sized pot for the 
Middle Bear ; and a great pot for the Great Huge Bear. 

And they had each a chair to sit in : a little chair for 
the Little Small Wee Bear ; a middle-sized chair for the 
Middle Bear ; and a great chair for the Great Huge Bear. 

And they had each a bed to sleep in : a little bed for 
the Little Small Wee Bear ; a middle-sized bed for the 
Middle Bear ; and a great bed for the Great Huge Bear. 

One day they had made the porridge for their breakfast, 
and poured it into their porridge-pots. Then they walked 
out into the wood while the porridge was cooling. They 
did not wish to burn their mouths by beginning too soon 
to eat it. 

In that same far-off country there lived a little girl. 
She was called Silver Hair, because her light curly hair 
shone so brightly. 



86 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

She was a sad romp ; and so restless, she could not be 
kept quiet, but ran out and away, and often without leave. 

One day she went into the wood to gather wild flowers, 
and into the fields to chase butterflies. She ran here and 
there and everywhere, till at last she found herself in a 
lonely wood. 

There she saw the snug little house where the Three 
Bears lived when they were at home. 

First she looked in at the window, and then she peeped 
into the keyhole, and seeing no one in the house, she 
lifted the latch. 

The door was not locked ; for the Bears were good Bears 
who did no one harm, and did not think any one would 
harm them. 

So Silver Hair went in. And well pleased she was 
when she saw the porridge on the table. 

She tasted the porridge of the Great Huge Bear, and 
found it too hot for her. 

Then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear, and 
found it too cold for her. 

And then she went to the porridge of the Little Small 
Wee Bear, and found it neither too hot nor too cold, but 
just right ; and she liked it so well that she ate it all up. 

Then little Silver Hair sat down in the chair of the Great 
Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. 

She sat down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and that 
was too soft for her. 

And then she sat down in the chair of the Little Small 
Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but 
just right. 

But she sat in it so hard that the bottom fell out, and 
she fell through almost to the floor. 



THIRD WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 87 

Then Silver Hair went up stairs to the chamber where 
the Bears slept. 

And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great Huge 
Bear, but that was too high at the head. 

And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle 
Bear, and that was too high at the foot. 

And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little Small 
Wee Bear, and that was neither too high at the head nor 
at the foot, but just right. So she lay down upon it and 
fell fast asleep. 

While little Silver Hair lay fast asleep, the Three Bears 
came home from their walk. 

They thought their porridge would be cool enough by 
this time, and they went to breakfast. 

Now little Silver Hair had left the spoon of the Great 
Huge Bear standing in his porridge. 

"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!" 
said he, in his great, rough, gruff voice. 

And the Middle Bear looked at his pot of porridge, and 
said : — 

"Somebody has been at my porridge!" in his mid- 
dle voice. 

And the Little Bear looked at his porridge, and said, in 
a little, soft, wee voice : — 

" Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all 
tip I " 

And so the Three Bears began to look about to find the 
thief. 

Now little Silver Hair had not put the hard cushion 
straight when she rose from the chair of the Great Huge 
Bear. 

"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY 



88 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

CHAIR ! " said the Great Huge Bear, in his great, rough, 
gruff voice. 

And little Silver Hair had pressed down the cushion of 
the Middle Bear when she sat upon it. 

"Somebody has been sitting in my chair!" said the 
Middle Bear, in his middle voice. 

And you know very well what Silver Hair had done to 
the third chair. 

" Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the 
bottom out !'' said the Little Bear, in his little, soft, wee 
voice. 

Then the Three Bears thought they would search fur- 
ther ; so they went up stairs to look into their chambers. 

Now Little Silver Hair had pulled the pillow of the 
Great Huge Bear out of its place. 

"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING ON MY 
BED ! " growled the Great Huge Bear, in his great, 
rough, gruff voice. 

And little Silver Hair had pulled the pillow of the Mid- 
dle Bear out of its place. 

"Somebody has been lying on my bed!" said the 
Middle Bear, in his middle voice. 

And when the Little Small Wee Bear came to look 
at his bed, the pillow was in its right place, but 
upon the pillow was the head of little Silver Hair, 
which was not in its right place, for she had no busi- 
ness there. 

" Somebody has been lying on my bed — aiid here she 
is!'' piped the Little Small Wee Bear, in his little, soft 
wee voice. 

Little Silver Hair had heard in her sleep the great, 
rough, gruff voice of the Great Huge Bear ; but she was 



THIRD WEEK OE NOVEMBER. 89 

SO fast asleep that it was like the roaring of the wind, and 
she did not wake. 

And the middle voice of the Middle Bear was as if she 
heard some one speaking in her dream. But when she 
heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little Small Wee 
Bear, it was so sharp and so shrill that it woke her at 
once. 

Up she jumped ; and when she saw the Three Bears at 
one side, she tumbled out at the other, and ran to the 
window. 

Now the window was open ; for good, tidy Bears they 
were, and always opened their bedroom windows when 
they got up in the morning. 

Out Silver Hair jumped, and away she ran to her 
mamma, and told the story of the Three Bears ; and the 
Bears invited in their neighbors to tell them the story of 
Silver Hair. 

THE BEAR THAT HUGGED THE TEA-KETTLE. 

A bear once came out of the woods late in autumn, 
to have one more walk before he should go to sleep for the 
winter. 

A little farmhouse stood near the woods, and the boiling 
tea-kettle had been set out of doors on a little table by the 
woodshed. 

The bear saw the steam puffing from the spout of the 
kettle, and perhaps had never seen such a sight before ; for 
he hurried up to the table, and standing on his hind legs, 
put his nose into the hot steam to smell it. Of course his 
nose was burned, and he was angry with the tea-kettle, 
and jumping on the table he seized it in his hairy paws ; 



90 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

but he dropped it very quickly and spilled some of the hot 
water on his feet. The little children who were looking 
out of the window at him were very glad to see him run 
away as fast as he could, and their mamma assured them 
the bear would not be likely to visit their house again 
that winter. 

Anonymous. 



FOURTH WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 9 1 



JFourt!} W^zt\ of Nobtmljcr. 

If the sheep did not give us wool for mittens, hoods, 
cloaks, and dresses, I am afraid we would be uncomfor- 
table some of these days. And if the shoemaker did not 
make our shoes, what should we do ? Do you remember 
what birds stay with us during the winter ? What can we 
do for them ? 

The men who build our houses should do the best kind 
of work, should they not ? Suppose they were to leave 
cracks in the walls, as some children are apt to do when 
building with blocks ? We must be careful to do neat 
work even while we are little children, and then when we 
are grown we will find it easy to do good work. We want 
no holes left in our new shoes, and we want our houses to 
stand very firm with walls and roofs strong, for the wintry 
snow and wind must not come inside. Everybody who 
does any kind of work ought to do it the best he can, not 
thinking about how easily or quickly it can be hurried 
away, but doing every part of it well. There is a beauti- 
ful church in Europe that is said to be just as perfect 
in every corner from basement to bell-towers as it is 
about the altar. The statues in all the little dark 
niches were carved by great sculptors, and the paint- 
ing in every corner was done as if it were to be seen 
every day by the crowds who gather in the nave and 
transepts. Isn't that a beautiful and honest way to 
work ? 



92 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

I suppose it would take a whole lifetime to learn about 
all the people who have done beautiful things, and we have 
time in kindergarten to study only a few of them. 

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 

There was once a rich and beautiful woman in England, 
who could not content herself to do nothing but ride in a 
carriage, wear fine clothes, and visit people who lived in 
castles. When she sat at her father's table with all the 
good things to eat and all the beautiful silver and glass 
and china before her, she would think of the poor sick 
people who had not even an orange to quench the thirst 
of fever. And when the news came to her father's house 
of the dreadful suffering of the English soldiers away off 
in Crimea, she told her people she must go there and help 
to take care of them. She had been a good nurse even 
when a tiny little girl, doing just what the doctor told her 
to do when anybody in the house was ill ; and everybody 
loved to have her come into the room even when suffering 
with a dreadful headache, for she would step softly, and 
give the sufferer a drink of cool water, or turn a pillow, 
not making a bit of noise. 

She went to the hospitals and took such good care of 
the soldiers that those who got well and went home 
wanted to make her a present of a large sum of money ; 
but she told them she should not take money for herself, — 
that would not make her happy, — but they might give it to 
the city of London for a training school for nurses, so that 
there would be enough to take care of all the wounded 
soldiers next time they should be needed. The more this 
noble woman thought about others, the more people loved 



FOURTH WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 93 

her, and the Queen sent her a beautiful jewel with her love 
and thanks for her goodness to the English soldiers ; and 
the soldiers ! think how they must have loved her ! They 
wanted to have a statue of her raised in London, and they 
would give a penny apiece for the purpose, thinking she 
would not object to such a little gift ; but she would not 
have the money used that way, telling them it would please 
her more if they would give it to the hospitals. But the 
world will not forget Florence Nightingale though there 
is no statue of her in London. 

PEEP STAR! STAR PEEP! 

One night the Stars said to the Moon, " Please tnay we 
stay out late to-night t We want to play hide-and-seek." 

"You may stay as late as you please," said the Moon, 
"if you take good care of the baby Stars, and lead them 
gently so that none of them will fall." 

So each Star took a baby Star by the hand, and led it 
out into the sky-garden, where the game was to be played. 

That was a fine night for a child to look up into the blue 
sky ; for the Stars were all out, — large Stars and small 
Stars, Stars that could run fast as a boy ten years old, and 
Stars that had to lie on little cloud-beds to watch the 
game, because they were too small to run without falling. 

When the Stars play hide-and-seek, they do not cover 
their eyes with a bandage ; for they can shut them so 
closely that even the Moon cannot be seen. 

The oldest sister Star began the game by closing her 
eyes and counting ten, while the others held up their fin- 
gers for her to count, which, of course, no Star could do 
with her eyes shut. 



94 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

When they were sure she could not see them, they kept 
their Hps closed for fear a laugh would break out to tell 
where they were ; and they ran on tiptoe until the sister 
Star spread out her arms and almost caught a dozen of 
them. Then they ran pell-mell under one of the little 
white cloud-cribs, and a child who was looking at them 
said : — 

"I fink the Stars are playing peep-boo with me, mamma." 

One of the Stars heard the little girl ; for the Stars are 
very glad to play with children, and are much pleased 
when children make pictures of them, and ask questions 
about them ; and the Moon is always willing the Stars 
should be friendly with children, though it often happens 
that a careless Star leans so far over the sky-garden wall, 
to look at some baby of earth, that he falls down, down, to 
the ground. It does not hurt Stars to fall as it does chil- 
dren, and the Moon is not lonely when one of her Stars 
comes down here ; for she can see and hear them where- 
ever they are, and she knows better than your mamma 
does that one Father takes care of all children, so that to 
him none of them are ever lost ; but the Star that falls 
to the earth does not shine any more, as it does when 
it is up in its own garden. 

'When you are older, you will learn about these meteors, 
and what relation they hold to Stars. 

When the little child said she thought the Stars were 
playing "peep-boo " with her, the sister Star said, "Come ; 
a child wants to play with us." And those beautiful Stars 
took hold of hands, and ran down a wide path in such a 
hurry, their white dresses and silver sashes fluttering about 
them, that to the little child looking at them they seemed 
like a snowy ribbon unrolled across the sky, and she 



FOURTH WEEK OF NOVEMBER. 95 

cried out, "Oh, mamma! I see a pretty white sash — and 
mamma, mamma, it has little silver stars all broidered on 
it ; do you think it is for some lady Star to wear to a 
party ?" 

Then the Stars laughed with glee, till the Moon held up 
her finger for them to listen to what a little boy, half-way 
across the world, was saying. He was talking to his papa ; 
and when he saw all the Stars crowding down that bright 
path, he said : — 

" Papa, I think those Stars are having a fine coasting- 
party." 

The little boy's papa and the little girl's mamma said : — 

" I am glad that the Sky Father is the Earth Father, too, 
and that the little Stars are just as well cared for as our 
children and ourselves." 

When the Stars saw the Sun coming to put them to 
bed, the Moon and all her family knelt down, just where 
they were, some in the garden-path, and some on their 
cloud-beds, and told the Sky Father how glad they were 
that he could take good care of Stars as well as of the dear 
little children in the under-world. And they went to sleep 
up there just as the children and birds were waking here. 



96 STOHIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



JFirst SHfrfe of Bfcrmtfr, 

We had a holiday last month : you remember we took 
time to say "thank you" to our best Friend. This 
month we shall have another holiday ; it will be Christmas, 
the birthday of the Christ Child. 

[The New Testament story of the shepherds watching their sheep, 
and the journey of the wise men, is perhaps the best Christmas story 
that can be told. The drawings illustrating this are among the most 
original that I ever saw children make.] 



^eronti SEeek of ©rrrmtifr. 

We have to work very busily this month to make 
presents. 

We love to do hard things, even if we are little children. 

Out in the woods there are trees that are green all 
winter. We call them evergreens. There is one waiting 
out there to be brought to us and filled with our gifts for 
our friends. 

[The blessedness of giving was never, perhaps, better demonstrated 
than in the kindergartens where the thoughts were turned upon making 
gifts instead of receiving them. At Cottage Place it was the custom 
for many years to fill the trees with the children's gifts to their parents 
and older brothers and sisters, no mention being made of any expected 
gifts in return. Every Christmas it was a fresh revelation to the 
teachers of the inherent generosity of child-nature ; for notwithstanding 



SECOND WEEK OF DECEMBER. 97 

the costly presents supplied the children every year after the distribu- 
tion of their gifts to their parents, the next year found them engrossed 
with thoughts of giving, any reference to receiving being quite ex- 
ceptional.] 

There are many kinds of stories, — stories that are true 
and stories that are untrue. Some stories have been 
made by just one person, and others have been made by a 
great many people. Sometimes a story is told first in 
Germany ; and when it is told in this country, a little 
change is made in it, and then it goes over to France, and 
is told in the French language with just another little 
change, until it has been in many countries and told in so 
many languages that it does not sound much like the first 
German story. Some stories have been growing hundreds 
of years — a true story in the beginning, but a little added 
or changed until we are unable to tell just what was true 
in the time of it ; but there is so much that is so good and 
beautiful in these stories as we have them that we still 
love to hear them. Sometimes people tell a dream, and 
some one listening goes away and tells it as a true story, 
and so something untrue comes to be believed. There 
are some lovely stories that have been growing ever since 
the Christ Child came to earth, and some people have 
believed them and made pictures of parts of them. One is 
the story of 

SAINT ELIZABETH AND THE SICK CHILD. 

Once when Saint Elizabeth was ministering to her poor 
at Eisenach, she found a sick child cast out from among 
the others because he was so loathsome in his misery that 
no one would touch him or even go nigh to him ; but Eliz- 
abeth, moved with pity, took him in her arms, carried him 



98 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

up the steep ascent to the castle, and while her attendants 
fled at the sight of the poor child, she laid him in her own 
bed. Her husband was absent, but shortly afterward his 
horn was heard to sound at the gate. Then his mother ran 
out to meet him, saying, " My son, come hither ! see with 
whom thy wife Elizabeth shares her bed ! " and she led him 
up to the chamber, telling him about the sick child. He 
rushed to the bed and snatched away the coverlid ; but 
behold ! instead of the loathsome child, there lay a radiant 
infant with the features of the Christ Child of Bethlehem ; 
and while they stood amazed, the infant smiled and van- 
ished from their sight. 



THIRD WEEK OF DECEMBER. 99 



Cfjtrtr SEerfe of December, 

A JEWISH LEGEND. 

I LIKE that old, kind legend 

Not found in Holy Writ, 
And wish that John or Matthew 

Had made Bible out of it. 

But though it is no gospel, 

There is no law to hold 
The heart from growing better, 

That hears the story told : — 

How the little Jewish children. 

Upon a summer day, 
Went down across the meadows 
With the Christ Child to play. 

And in the gold-green valley. 
Where low the reed-grass lay, 

They made them mock mud-sparrows 
Out of the meadow clay. 

So, when these all were fashioned. 
And ranged in rows about, 

"Now," said the Httle Jesus, 
"We'll let the birds fly out." 

Then all the happy children 
Did call, and coax, and cry — 

Each to his own mud-sparrow : 
" Fly, as I bid you ! Fly ! " 



lOO STORIES AND MOAWLVG TALKS. 

But earthen were the sparrows, 

And earth they did remain, 
Though loud the Jewish children 

Cried out, and cried again. 

Except the one bird only 

The little Lord Christ made ; 
The earth that owned him Master, — 

His earth heard and obeyed. 

Softly he leaned and whispered, 
" Fly up to Heaven ! Fly ! " 

And swift his little sparrow 
Went soaring to the sky. 

And silent all the children 
Stood, awestruck, looking on, 

Till, deep into the heavens. 
The bird of earth had gone. 

Our souls are like the sparrows 

Imprisoned in the clay ; 
Bless Him who came to give them wings 

Upon a Christmas Day ! 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. 



SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

Saint Christopher wished to do something to serve the 
King of earth and heaven ; and he went to the cave of a 
good hermit, who said : — 

" Knowest thou a certain river, stony, and wide, and 
deep, and often swollen by the rains, so that many people 
perish who attempt to pass over .-' " 



THIRD WEEK OF DECEMBER. lOI 

And Saint Christopher answered, "I know it." 

Then said the hermit, " Go to that river, and use thy 
strength to aid and to save those who struggle with the 
stream, and those who are about to perish." To which 
Christopher replied joyfully, — 

"This I can do." 

So he went as the hermit had directed, and he dwelt by 
the side of the river ; and having rooted up a palm-tree 
from the forest, — so strong he was, and tall, — he used it 
for a staff to support and guide his steps ; and he aided 
those who were about to sink, and the weak he carried on 
his shoulders across the stream ; and by day and by night 
he was always ready for his task, and failed not, and was 
never wearied of helping those who needed help. 

Christopher one night heard a voice which called to him 
from the shore ; it was the plaintive voice of a child, and 
it seemed to say, " Christopher, come forth and carry me 
over ! " 

And he rose and looked out, but he saw nothing : then 
he lay down again ; but the voice called to him in the same 
words a second and a third time ; and the third time he 
sought round about with a lantern ; and at length he 
beheld a little child sitting on the bank, who entreated 
him, saying, — 

"Christopher, carry me over this night." 

And Christopher lifted the child on his strong shoulders, 
and took his staff and entered the stream. 

And the waters rose higher and higher ; and the waves 
roared, and the wind blew ; and the infant on his shoulders 
became heavier and heavier, till it seemed to him that he 
must sink under the great weight ; and he began to fear. 
But nevertheless, taking courage, and staying his tottering 



I02 STORIES AXD MORNING TALKS. 

Steps with his palm-staff, he at length reached the opposite 
bank ; and when he had laid the child down, safely and 
gently, he looked upon him with astonishment, and he 
said, — 

"Who art thou, child, that hath placed me in such 
peril ? Had I carried the whole world on my shoulder the 
burden had not been heavier! " 

And the child replied : — 

" Wonder not, good .Christopher ; for thou hast not only 
borne the world, but Him who made the world, upon thy 
shoulders. Me wouldst thou serve in this work of charity ; 
and, behold, I have accepted thy service and thee ; plant 
thy staff in the ground, and it shall put forth leaves and 
fruit." 

Christopher did so, and the dry staff flourished as a 
palm-tree in the season, and was covered with clusters of 
fruit ; but the Christ Child had vanished from sight. 

The First Christmas Presents, told by E. E. Hale, and written 

OUT WITH HIS PERMISSION BY SaRA E. WILTSE. 

Dr. Edward Everett Hale lives in Boston, and the story 
of the First Christmas Presents was told by him to the 
children of Cottage Place Kindergarten. 

He is a story-writer, a preacher, and a philanthropist. 
That means that he loves all kinds of peopte, and wants 
everybody and everything kindly treated. 

You will hear other stories that he has told, before you 
have been many weeks in kindergarten. 

When you go to public school, you will find Dr. Hale's 
stories there ; and when you get to be men and women 
you will still love to hear them ; for he writes stories that 
are just as interesting to grown people as to children. 



THIRD WEEK OF DECEMBER. 103 

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. 

You've all heard the story of the Father's gift to the 
world, of the dear Christ Child, but perhaps you never 
heard of the first Christmas presents the Holy Child 
received. You know how the wise men brought him gold 
and frankincense and myrrh ; but these are not the pres- 
ents I am going to tell you about ; for there were some 
given before the wise men had found the manger where 
the Child lay. You remember he lay upon the sweet- 
scented hay, and a good cow looked at the Child — some 
people believe she knelt when she saw him. She said, 
" Moo, moo, moo ! " as she looked, and Joseph and Mary 
understood her just as well as if she had spoken in their 
language. What do you suppose she meant to say .'' 

I think she meant, "Dear little Christ Child, I have 
some milk for you." And the father Joseph brought the 
milk and gave some to the babe, so that the cow made the 
second present on the first Christmas. We will never for- 
get that the first was the gift of the Father to us. 

After that the wise men came ; but that you hear about 
everywhere Christmas, I hope, and many a day between. 

You know, too, how soon Joseph and Mary had to take 
the Child and go a journey ; but some other animals wanted 
to make gifts, and one said, " Baa, baa, baa ! " Whom do 
you think that was } 

Yes, it was the woolly sheep ; and he meant that he 
would like to give of his wool for a warm garment to wrap 
the Baby in, when he should be riding in the night-time ; 
and Mary took some of the good sheep's wool, and made a 
soft and pretty cloak for the Child. 

So the moo-cow gave milk, and the baa-sheep gave wool. 



I04 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

Then when Joseph and Mary were nearly ready to start 
on that long journey, they heard something say, " Kit, 
kit, kit, ka-da-kit ! kit, kit, kit, ka-da-kit ! kit, kit, kit, ka- 
da-kit ! " What could that be ? 

A hen, to be sure. 

And what did the hen want to give ? Yes, the hen 
wanted the mother Mary to have a nice fresh egg for her 
breakfast. 

Then when the Child had had some more of the moo- 
cow's milk, and was wrapped in the baa-sheep's wool, and 
Mary had eaten the hen's egg, they went out of the barn 
to begin their journey, and there was an ass at the door, 
and he said " M-m-m-m-h — h-m — m-m-h — h-m-m-m-m- 
m-h ! m-m-m-m-h — h-m — m-m-h — h-m-m ! " which meant, 
" I want to give Mary and the Child a ride " ; and that was 
the best way he had of telling it. So Joseph helped the 
mother and Child to get upon the back of the ass, and they 
rode away. 

Now when we are making and receiving Christmas pres- 
ents, we will remember those of the cow, the wise men, 
the sheep, the hen, and the ass. 

Edward Everett Hale. 



FIRST WEEK OF JANUARY. 105 



jFourt!) SEeefe of ©ecemtier^ 

[The Christmas stories that have been already told should be re- 
peated, — the children being encouraged to tell as much of them as they 
can recall. Every Christmas carol learned should be explained verse 
by verse by the children, not as a task, but as a bit of joyous knowl- 
edge which they joyously share with others.] 



JFirst SEeek of Sanuarg. 

When are we happiest, when working for ourselves or 
for others ? What did you do for others last month ? 
What was done for you ? 

[It makes a good impression upon children to analyze with them the 
labor that goes to the making of one toy, — a doll, a drum, or any 
Christmas present they may chance to bring to kindergarten.] 

CHARLOTTE AND THE TEN DWARFS. 

There was once a little girl named Charlotte left alone 
to keep her father's house in order, and to help him in the 
work of the farm. The weight of care and work quite dis- 
couraged her, and not knowing what to do first, she sat 
down on the doorstep without doing anything. She ex- 
claimed to herself, " Oh, why is not the good fairy Bounti- 
ful on the earth any more to help us out of our troubles.'' " 

" Be satisfied, then ; for I am here," said the fairy, close 
beside her. 



Io6 STORIES AND MORNING TALK'S. 

She was an odd-looking old woman, leaning on a crutch 
of holly. 

Charlotte asked her how she could serve her ; but the 
fairy replied that she had come to serve and not to be 
served, and had brought Charlotte ten little workmen to 
help her. The old woman opened her cloak, and ten 
dwarfs of different sizes jumped out. The first two were 
very strong, though clumsy and awkward. "These," said 
the fairy, " are the strongest ; the two following are taller 
and more skilful ; the next are still taller, and one of them 
is especially useful in sewing, so he has a little cap called 
thimble ; the next two have golden rings to wear, and are 
not easily managed alone, but have two little ones to help 
them. Now you will see what they can do." At a sign from 
the fairy the little men glided about the room, doing the 
coarsest and heaviest as well as finest work. At sight of 
this, Charlotte stretched out her arms, and begged the 
fairy to lend her the little dwarfs. The fairy answered 
that she would do better, and would give them to her, and 
to save trouble in carrying them with her everywhere, she 
would hide them in her fingers. Now you know what 
treasures you possess you must keep your fingers always 
busy, and the work you dread so much will be done as if 
by magic. 

Charlotte never had any trouble after this, but kept her 
father's house and helped in the farm work. 

Anonymous 



SECOND WEEK OF JANUARY. IQJ 



.Serontr SEcrk of ^anitarg, 

[Look at snowflakes on a bit of black cloth, and, if practicable, com- 
pare with other crystals ; imitate the snowflakes with planes, and draw 
pictures of them on blackboard. 

The talk may be of the difference between work of blacksmith and 
shoemaker, and the materials they use, and the story may be of The 
Blacksmith or The Shoemaker, from Prang's Pictures.] 



OUR DAILY BREAD. 

"And how is Jamie .-* " said Robert, as he came in from 
his day's work, in every moment of which he had thought 
of his sick child. He spoke in a whisper, and in a whisper 
his wife answered, — 

" No worse, the doctor says ; and he may get well if we 
can get him to take enough food ; but he refuses the 
groats and barley, and beef tea, and broth, though the 
spoonful of milk given him half an hour ago, he still keeps 
in his stomach." 

This was nearly a week before Christmas. 

The second day before Christmas the doctor was two 
hours late, because the snowdrifts were heavier than he 
had ever seen them in Boston before. Robert did not 
come home to dinner ; but he came early for his supper, 
and as he looked at the baby from the other side of the 
crib, and smiled so cheerfully, Mary felt that she could 
not thank God enough for his goodness, 

Five-and-twenty miles away was another mother, whose 
baby was born the same day as Jamie. Neither mother 



108 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

had ever heard of the other ; but we shall see how their 
lives were twisted together. In this country home the 
men were seldom home to dinner ; for they were in the 
milk business, and had to collect the milk from the hill 
farms and then carry it to the milk train at three o'clock 
in the morning. The same day that the doctor was late 
to see Jamie on account of the snowdrifts in Boston, 
Huldah could not see the fences or woodpile, the snow 
was so deep about the country house, and her husband did 
not get home to supper until late in the night. She had 
shovelled a path to the barn, had given the cows and 
horses their supper, and milked two cows which they kept 
for their own use. 

At nine o'clock the men came, and a story they had to 
tell ! They had fought snow all day, had been breaking 
roads from farmhouses to the milk station, where the 
cans were piled waiting for the train that had not yet 
ploughed its way through the snow-banks. It was clear 
that no milk train nor any other train would go to Boston 
the next morning. 

"Bad for the Boston babies," said Reuben. "Poor 
little things ! " said Huldah. 

Three o'clock in the morning Huldah's fire was burning 
brightly ; the snow had ceased to fall at midnight, and it 
was now bright starlight. The men ate their breakfast, 
and again began the work of clearing roads, and carrying 
milk to the station. Huldah gave John the full milk-can 
into which she had poured every drop of Carry's milk, 
and said, " It will be one more, and God knows what 
child may be crying for it now." 

The men worked all day, and got two hundred and 
thirty-nine cans one station nearer Boston, for no train 



SECOA^D WEEK OF JANUARY. lO^ 

had come yet. A boy of fourteen was to put on a pair of 
snowshoes, and get a red lantern, and stop the first train, 
even if it were a lightning express, and ask the conductor 
to take the milk to the city, no train having gone there 
from any direction in twenty-four hours. Silas, the boy 
of fourteen, walked back and forth, carrying the red lan- 
tern and listening for a train. 

He sang Christmas carols, and spoke pieces, and played 
he was a soldier until after midnight, and then he re- 
peated the ten commandments, and said the multiplica- 
tion table, and ran up and down the track to keep 
himself awake. Then he thought he should surely freeze 
to death, the cold was so terrible, — then a globe of 
light swept over the valley, and the scream of an engine 
was welcomed by the freezing boy as if it had been 
an angel's whisper. " Do not stop for me," he cried, 
as the workmen dragged him in. " Only run slow till 
you are out of the ledge ; we have made a milk station 
at the cross-road." 

" Good for you! " said the fireman; and in ten seconds 
they were beside the pyramids of milk-cans. And the 
workers on the train cheered the workers at the cross- 
roads. An empty passenger car was opened, and the milk- 
cans were hurried into it by forty men. 

In the little house in Boston, where the sick baby lay, 
Christmas morning had come. Robert and Mary knelt 
with the other children, and said, " Our Father, who art 
in heaven." Mary's voice trembled a little when she 
came to the " daily bread," but it grew stronger as she 
came to the end, and could say " Thine is the power," and 
she believed it. 

" Mamma," whispered little Fanny, as she kissed her 



I lO STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

mother after the prayer, " when I said my prayers last 
night, I said ' our daily milk.' " 

This was more than poor Mary could bear ; for last 
night at six o'clock the last drop of milk was sour, and 
Jamie could not take it. 

Christmas morning Robert had been to all the neigh- 
bors, but nobody had any sweet milk. . The doctor brought 
some condensed milk, but the sick child refused to swallow 
it. Kind-hearted people sent beef-tea and Scotch groats, 
and everything they could think of that a sick child might 
have in place of milk, but the little boy only cried and 
moaned until his mother's heart was ready to break, — 
then the bell rang — the milkman was at the door with 
Huldah Stevens' own milk-can, full of rich, sweet milk, 
which she had sent, saying, " God knows what child may 
be crying for it." 

Huldah never knew, though, and Mary never knew, but 
the good God and all good angels knew, and you and I 
must never forget that always our daily bread comes to 
us because a thousand brave men and a thousand brave 
women are at work praying and serving God. 

E. E. Hale, in Cliristtnas Stories. 



A STORY FOR WILLIE WINKLE. 

One winter night old North Wind and little Jack Frost 
had a talk which I happened to overhear. 

North Wind called Jack Frost to see a snowdrift which 
he had blown into a fence corner, and, with his gray wing, 
swept into curves as pretty as one ever sees anywhere 
except in a little child's face. Jack Frost looked and 



SECOND WEEK OF JANUAR V. Ill 

laughed, saying, " I can make things quite as pretty, but I 
must work in the water." 

North Wind wrapped his cloak of clouds about him, and 
went to see Jack Frost work in a stream of water not far 
away. 

As they flew, with clouds and snow before them, Jack 
Frost peeped in a window, and saw a little boy sleeping. 
" Let's do something for Willie Winkle," whispered Jack 
Frost. 

"Agreed!" shouted North Wind. To work they went, 
North Wind puffing little starry gems of snow against 
the window-pane outside, while Jack Frost fastened them 
on, and, at the same time, drew pictures of trees and vines 
on the inside, which were so pretty that North Wind fairly 
shook the house, trying to get in to see them. Jack Frost, 
fearing all the noise of North Wind would waken Willie 
Winkle, hurriedly tasted the water in Willie's silver cup, 
which turned the water to ice, and crept out at the key- 
hole. 

When North Wind and Jack Frost reached the brooklet, 
they were talking about the children they had seen that 
night ; and the little brook stopped to listen, for she had 
missed the visits from the children for many a day. And, 
as she listened, every drop, ripple, and dimple of the brook- 
let turned to crystal, and stood still there, waiting until 
spring for the children. 

When North Wind and Jack Frost passed a tiny pond, 
old North Wind fairly held his breath a moment with 
delight ; then he, being the older, said, " Let's work 
together this winter." 

"Agreed!" laughed Jack Frost, from the turret of an 
ice palace which he was finishing. 



iI2 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

" Will you ripple the top of this water while I freeze 
it ? " 

" That I will," answered old North Wind. 

" It will spoil the skating for the big boys, but we'll 
work for the little folks to-night." 

So North Wind blew across the water till it wrinkled 
and waved like a broad field of wheat under the wing of 
South Wind in Summer. Jack Frost followed close upon 
the breath of North Wind, kissed the ripples and wrinkles, 
and there they stood. 

The waters were all curled and frozen over little caves, 
shining grottos, and glittering palaces of ice. 

As North Wind and Jack Frost were going home next 
morning, they saw Willie Winkle looking at the pretty 
pictures on his window. 

" Let us speak to him," said North Wind. But at his 
voice the window rattled and shook so noisily that Willie 
Winkle ran away to sit by the warm fire. 

After breakfast Willie Winkle went again to the win- 
dow, and, seeing the beautiful drifts, and wreaths, and 
banks, and puffs of snow in corners, on gate-posts, and in 
tree-tops, he begged to go outside. He was no sooner in 
the yard than Jack Frost came creeping, and North Wind 
came shouting ; and one pinched his ears ; the other blew 
off his hat. And such a wrestling match as Willie Winkle 
had with them made even his mamma laugh. 

When he went in the house, his cheeks were as red as 
roses, and his fingers as purple as Jack Frost could make 
them with his kisses and pinches. 



THIRD WEEK OF JANUAR Y. 113 



Eljirti W^u\ of Sanuars* 

There is nothing so small that we may not find some- 
thing very interesting in it. The story of a single grain 
of sand, or drop of water, or tiny snowflake, would be a 
long one if we could learn it, and it would take a very wise 
man to tell it. 

[The story of The Snowflakes may be told, or that of The Car- 
penter, from Prang's Picture.] 

THE SNOWFLAKES. 

" Hurrah ! We are going down to the earth," said a 
tiny snowflake up in its cloud home to its brothers. " I 
heard King Frost and the North Wind say last night that, 
if the East Wind would help them, they would make some 
more snowflakes, and send us all down to the earth." 

" Oh, what fun ! " cried the rest ; " we will have a fine 
race down ! I wish East Wind would hurry and bring up 
his clouds." 

" Here he comes now ! " cried a little flake. 

And sure enough, far out over the ocean came the East 
Wind, driving the clouds filled with tiny water-drops be- 
fore him. 

King Frost and North Wind went to meet him when 
they saw him coming, and to breathe on the clouds. 

Instantly the water-drops in the clouds were changed 
into beautiful little feathery snowflakes, which leaped 



114 STOHIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

joyously from their cloud home, and began their journey 
to the earth. 

Faster and faster they came, chasing each other merrily 
along, and laughing gaily as the strong winds caught 
them and whirled them about. 

" You can't catch me ! " cried one. 

" Don't be too sure of that ! " cried another. 

'' I'll be there first ! " called out a third. 

" Not if I get there before you," laughed a fourth, rush- 
ing along so swiftly that he was out of sight in an instant. 

What fun it was, to be sure ! and, when they finally 
reached the ground, how they rolled over each other, 
and flew here and there among the leaves and bushes, 
till at last they were tired, and settled down to rest for 
awhile. 

They had been quiet but a few minutes, when they 
heard a shout, and down the road came the schoolboys. 

" Now for the fun ! " said the little snowflakes. " Here 
come the boys to play with us ! " 

" A snowball match ! " cried the boys. " Let's have a 
snowball match ! " 

"Yes," laughed the snowflakes, "we like that." 

And so, when the boys took up the snow, the little 
flakes clung closely together, and did their best to make 
the balls quickly. 

Then they laughed, and the boys laughed and shouted, 
as they flew. 

After a short game of snowballing, the boys grew tired 
of this sport, and ran off to their homes to get their sleds. 

So the little snowflakes had a chance to rest awhile, 
and to watch their brothers who were hurrying down from 
their cloud home to join them on earth. 



THIRD WEEK OF JANUAR Y. I I 5 

" You are too late for the fun," they said to the new- 
comers ; "we have just had a fine game of snowball with 
the boys." 

" Oh, we shall have sport enough," they answered, " be- 
fore we go off." 

Just then, hearing footsteps, they looked up and saw, 
coming down the road, a boy who was reading as he walked 
slowly along. 

" I wouldn't give much for that boy," said the snow- 
flakes; "he isn't going to take any notice of us." 

But when he came a little nearer to them, they heard 
him say this : " Without the sun there would be no vapor 
in the air ; without the vapor there would be no clouds ; 
and without the clouds there would be no snow ; so really 
the sun makes the snow. That's queer, now," he added, 
stopping his reading and looking down at the snow at his 
feet. "I never knew that before." 

"Well," said a snowflake, looking up, "don't you sup- 
pose there are a great many other things you don't know } " 

The boy stooped down, without taking any notice of 
what the snowflake said, and taking some of the snow in 
his hand, he went on : " How soft and white you are, you 
snowflakes ! I wish I had a magnifying-glass ; then I 
could see your beautiful forms." 

" This boy does take more notice of us than the other 
ones did," exclaimed a pleased little snowflake, " only he 
doesn't wish to play with us. I'll tell you how I look," he 
added, kindly, to the boy ; " I look like a six-pointed star, 
and my brother looks like a six-sided plane, all covered 
with little sparkling dots." 

The boy didn't seem to hear the snowflakes ; or, perhaps 
he heard them, but didn't understand snow-language, so 



Il6 STOJilES AND MORNING TALK'S. 

he made no reply to the speech of the Uttle flake, but went 
on talking. 

"Well," he said, "if the sun makes the snow for us, he 
takes it away from us again. I should like to know why 
it is that we cannot see the vapor when the sun is drawing 
it up through the air." 

"You do see it, sometimes, you know," answered the 
flake, "and you call it fog. Generally you cannot see it 
because the particles of water which make vapor are so 
very, very small ; so small that it takes many millions of 
them to make a drop of rain." 

" And this vapor is rising all the time, too," the boy 
continued, " from the ocean, from ponds and rivers, from 
the ground, from plants and trees, from animals, from 
almost everything on the earth, and yet we know nothing 
about it till we see it over our heads in clouds. It is very 
wonderful." 

"Yes, it is wonderful," replied the snowflakes ; "and 
there are many other wonderful things happening, which 
you will learn about when you are older." 

Andersen. 



FOURTH WEEK OF JANUARY. ll^ 



JFourtf) Mttk of ^anuarg, 

[Talk of the kinds of houses in which different people live, especially 
those in cold climates. Show pictures of Esquimaux dwellings, sleds, 
etc. Story of King Midas or The Cookie Boy, with a sketch of Hans 
Andersen if the latter is told.] 

Hans Christian Andersen, the writer of the beautiful 
fairy stories, was born in Odense, in the island of Funen, 
away in the dear North country. When he was a boy he 
was often cold and hungry, for his father was very poor, 
and the little Hans had to earn money by singhig in a 
choir to pay his teachers for every lesson he had. At last 
he could sing no more ; he had worn such thin clothes 
and ragged shoes in the cold weather that his voice was 
spoiled with hoarseness. He tried to sell his stories, but 
nobody would buy them for a long, long time. At last 
some kind people sent him to school and paid for his 
lessons, but he had to go hungry in order to buy his books. 
Was he not a brave lad > When he grew to be a man he 
could write such lovely stories that people began to read 
them in Germany, in England, and in America, and there 
was no more hunger or cold for him then. Great men 
and famous women praised his books and were glad to do 
him honor, but nothing pleased him quite so much as to 
have the people in his native town make a great procession 
in his honor, and give him wreaths and strew flowers 
before him while they sang and shouted for joy to see him 
with them again. This happened when he was quite an 



Il8 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

old man, and perhaps it was the next morning that he 
wrote the story of the Ugly Duckling, or the beginning of 
the true story of his life, in which he said that his life was 
a happy, lovely story which could not have been better if a 
good fairy had guided and defended him. 

THE STORY OF KING MIDAS. 

A great many years ago there lived a very rich king. 
It took him many weeks just to count his gold jjieces. 
But he wanted all the time to be getting richer. No 
matter how much he had, he wanted more. He gave all 
his time and thought to getting gold. 

One day, when he was counting his gold and looking 
very sad, a stranger appeared before him. " Why do you 
look so sad } " asked the stranger. The king answered, 
" Oh, if I could only turn everything I touch to gold ! " 

Now the stranger had a wonderful power which he could 
give to the king. So he said, " From to-morrow, every- 
thing you touch shall become gold." 

That night the king could hardly sleep for joy. In the 
morning he raised his purple robe to place it on his 
shoulders. Instantly every thread was golden. He sat 
down to fasten his sandals. In a twinkling the chair in 
which he sat became golden. His sandals, too, the instant 
he touched them, changed to pure gold. 

When he went for his morning walk, every flower be- 
came a golden flower. The path, and even the grass that 
he trod upon, became gold. 

But even a king will get hungry. So Midas went back 
to the palace for his breakfast. We are not told what it 
was, but we may be sure it was a feast fit for a king. He 



FOURTH WEEK OF JANUARY. I 19 

asked for water. A glassful was given him, and the 
moment he put it to his lips it turned to gold. 

The poor king could not drink gold. What was he to 
do .-• It was of no use to ask for another ; that, too, would 
become gold in his hand. All the money in the world 
could not buy him a drink of water. 

He sat down to eat. But every mouthful became gold 
the moment he put it to his lips. So he could eat nothing. 
With all his gold he would yet have to starve to death. 

Then the stranger again appeared. The king, with 
tears in his eyes, begged him to take away the touch that 
turned everything to gold. 

"Are you not happy. King Midas .^" asked the stranger. 

" I am most miserable," groaned the king. " I beg you 
to take away this hateful touch." 

The stranger told the king to bathe in a stream near by, 
and the golden touch would leave him ; and that water 
from the same stream would change back from gold any- 
thing on which he sprinkled it. 

Midas lost no time in obeying. The water washed away 
the golden touch, but the sands of the river banks became 
golden, and it is said that grains of gold are to be found 
there to this day. 

Midas was a happier king than he had ever been before. 

From Stickney's Reader. 

THE LITTLE COOKIE BOY. 

Abby's mother made some little Cookie Boys. They 
had heads, bodies, legs, and arms. And she made two 
little places for eyes. 

Abby watched her all the time she did it. She put them 



I20 SrOJilES AND MORNING TALKS. 

in the oven side by side and baked them to a pretty brown 
color. I will tell you the story of one of them. 

He was taken out of the oven and laid on a plate on the 
table. It had been dark in the oven, but now it was light. 
He looked about and saw Abby and her brother and sister 
playing. 

" Why," said he, "they are very large; but they are 
like me. I will ask them if they are big Cookie Boys." 
But Abby's mamma had forgotten to give him a mouth, so 
the question could not get out. 

He saw Abby's aunt, who had curly hair. " I wonder 
if my hair is curly, too," he said. He tried to feel ; but 
Abby's mamma had forgotten to give him any elbow-joints, 
or to make his shoulder-joints loose. 

He tried to get up; but, poor fellow, he had no knees or 
hips. All he could do was to lie still and look around. 

" I wonder what I was made for," he said. 

Abby's mamma took him up and tied a blue ribbon 
around his neck. She hung him on a green tree with 
little lights burning all over it. The tree was loaded with 
pretty things. He began to feel quite vain. " I must be 
beautiful, too, or I should not be here," thought he. 

One by one the things were taken from the trees. Lit- 
tle faces all around looked brighter as little arms became 
fuller. 

At last our Cookie Boy was taken off and given to a 
merry little girl. She squeezed him so tight that he 
wanted to scream. 

He did not think she meant to kiss him, but she put 
him up to her rosy mouth. He could not get away for he 
had no joints, and if he had had joints he would have 
walked or run into that pretty, rosy mouth, for a Cookie 



FOURTH WEEK OF JANUARY. 121 

Boy likes nothing so well as to be eaten by a good-natured, 
happy little boy or girl. As it was, he had to wait to be 
eaten one arm and one leg at a time; but the kind-hearted 
little girl kept his head until the very last, so that his lit- 
tle eyes had the fun of seeing himself eaten by the rosy 
mouth ; and he looked so pleased when his head was on its 
way to her pretty teeth, that she called her brother and 
gave him just half of it, and he had kept part of his Cookie 
Boy for her ; so there were four happy children, the two 
that ate and the two that were eaten. 

Andersen {adapted). 



122 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



first WiZt\\ of jFrfaruarg, 

[Talk with the children about the countries represented in the 
kindergarten, Germany, Ireland, and America, with especial reference 
to great or good men of the various nations ; fac-similes of their flags, 
or pictures of their national flowers or shields may be shown. Tell the 
children of the holiday to be enjoyed this month on account of one of 
America's great men.] 

HELPS TO AN OBJECT LESSON ON CALICO AND 
PRINT. 

[Have the children find articles of clothing made of these materials. 
A plain white handkerchief is a very good thing to observe first.] 

In the warm countries (where the Brown Baby and the 
Black Baby live) the people plant little black seeds in the 
ground. The sun and the rain help the little seeds to send 
roots downward and leaves and stems upward. When the 
stems are about two feet high (measuring from the floor 
with the hand) they have pretty yellow flowers ; after the 
flowers fade and fall there is left in their places small 
green pods or pockets that look much like green nuts. 
After a few weeks of sunshine and a few showers of warm 
rain, the soft green pockets become hard and brown, and 
at last they break open and out of each pops a bunch of 
white cotton like this. [Show a cotton pod.] 

The field of cotton then looks as if a snowball had fallen 
upon every stem. Men, women, and children go with bas- 
kets to gather the cotton, which is put in a machine which 



FIRST WEEK OF FEBRUARY. 1 23 

picks out every little seed hidden in the white bunches, 
after which it is sent away in ships and steam-cars to be 
made into — what ? Yes ; cloth for aprons and dresses 
and pillow-slips, etc. 

[Be careful to keep the children to cotton materials, excluding linen.] 

In the great mills where cotton is made into cloth, they 
put it between rollers that are covered with wire teeth 
which pick it to pieces, take out every speck of dirt, and 
press it into such strips as this : — 

[Any teacher can get samples from cotton mills, with a little trouble.] 

These long ribbon-like strips are drawn through rollers 
that press and pull them until they are as fine as this. 
[Show sample of third process.] 

Now the cotton is ready to be twisted into four threads; 
this twisting is called spinning, and as the machines twist 
or spin it they roll it upon spindles like this. [Show a 
spindle of cotton.] 

It is now ready to be woven into cloth, and is put into 
machines that draw a great many threads from these 
spindles, laying them close together from front to back. 
Another thread is wound upon a shuttle, and a machine 
sends this thread through the others, over one, under one, 
over one, under one, faster than you can say it, so fast 
that the little shuttle looks like a bird flying so swiftly that 
one cannot see the tiny thread he carries back and forth, 
from left to right and from right to left. 

This is called weaving cloth. Here are some bits of 
coarse cotton cloth from which you may pull the threads 
to see that they are woven over one and under one, as I 
have told you. 



124 STORIES AND MORNING TALK'S. 

Another day, if you can tell me about the growth of 
cotton, and the making of thread, of which the plain cloth 
is made, I will tell you how the bright colors are put on 
the cloth to make the pretty colored prints for your 
dresses. 

If some little girl wishes to do so, she may bring me a 
piece of her dress, and I will try to tell about its manu- 
facture. 



SECOND WEEK OF FEBRUARY. 1 25 



<Sfcotxti W,u\ of jFrtiruarg, 

[Show the children a portrait of General Washington, and tell them 
on what day he was born. Tell them why all schools are closed on his 
birthday, and dwell upon the childhood that foreshadowed the nobility of 
the man. The story of George Washington and his Hatchet is not trite 
to the children, and their interest in it and their pencil sketches of the 
boy, the tree, and the hatchet, with a little dramatic effort on the part 
of the teacher, will redeem the old tale from the contempt which is felt 
for it in some places. The marked moral effect upon children of this 
old story of truthfulness ought to be reason enough for its restoration to 
its rightful place in children's literature. 

A brief sketch of the Washington Elm, and the regard shown for it 
by Cambridge citizens, is both entertaining and instructive. 

Washington crossing the Delaware has wrought upon the imagina- 
tions of children in a remarkable manner. For weeks the painted cir- 
cle on the floor has been the Delaware River to them, and the floor has 
been gay with paper boats in which imaginary heroes were obeying the 
commands of General George Washington !] 



HELPS TO OBJECT LESSON ON CALICO AND PRINT. 

No. 2. 

After the threads, about which we talked before, are 
woven into cloth, the cloth has to be made white by 
boiling and bleaching. You will see that the thread on 
the spindle is yellow-white, and so is the scrap of un- 
bleached cloth. This kind of cloth is used in making most 
of your underclothes. 



126 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Calico. 

[The teacher should have a bit of caUco, which is different in texture 
from cotton sheeting, and is known in commerce as calico until it is 
printed with colors, when it becomes " print."] 

Here is a piece of cloth which was woven on purpose 
for dresses ; these threads are spun and woven a little dif- 
ferently from the threads used in making common cotton 
cloth. 

As soon as it is woven, it is' run through a machine, 
which clips or shears off every thread that sticks up ; 
then it is run very swiftly over a little blaze of gas, which 
burns off every fibre of the cotton which would make it 
look hairy and uneven. The first process they call shear- 
ing and the second one singeing the cloth. 

After it is sheared and singed, it is bleached until it is 
as white as this you see in my hand. 

It is now put into the machine for printing figures upon 
it. 

[The simpler the pattern, and the smaller the number of colors, the 
better for a first lesson.] 

The description here given is -of an elaborate pattern. 
Figures are cut in a copper roller just the shape of all 
the red spots in this piece of calico ; red dyestuff, much 
like red paste, is spread upon the roller, after which the 
roller is scraped with a sharp knife as it turns round, the 
knife taking off every bit of paste except that which sinks 
into the little holes cut in the copper roller ; the white 
calico, which is run between this pictured and pasted rol- 
ler and a smooth one, comes out with red figures on it, 
having taken the red paste out of the little holes in the 
copper roller. The calico must now go between rollers 



SECOND WEEK OF FEBRUARY. 12/ 

cut with figures like all these pink ones ; and what 
colored paste should go into these holes in the roller ? 
Pink paste, of course ; and when this calico, with red 
figures, has been run between the rollers with pink 
paste in its patterns, how many colors will you see in 
the cloth ? 

Two ; red and pink. After the red and pink figures are 
stamped upon the white cloth, it must pass between 
rollers with shapes of the blue figures cut in the copper 
of one roller, with blue paste in the forms ; then it must 
go over a roller with leaves and other forms cut upon it, 
in which the green paste is put. Last of all comes a roller 
with all the shapes which you see in brown cut upon it ; 
and after the calico goes over this roller, there is but little 
of the white left. You can see the little white lines and 
dots that are left uncolored. Can any little boy or girl 
tell how all these white lines could have been colored 
purple } A copper roller would have been cut full of little 
holes, just like these white lines and dots, and purple paste 
would have been put in the holes, and the cloth run be- 
tween this roller and a smooth one. 

Of course the calico gets wet with all this colored paste ; 
but as fast as it comes from between the rollers, it is 
carried by a large roller into a room kept so hot that 
nobody can go into it, where it dries very fast, and the 
heat makes the colors stay in the cloth. This hot room 
has glass sides, and people can look in and see the calico 
coming in at the floor, and going out at the roof, as fast as 
it rolls from the copper cylinders below. All the time 
the strips of calico are kept smooth and straight, for they 
are not cut into pieces until they are perfectly dry ; then a 
woman tends a machine which folds the calico into pieces 



128 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

that are cut off and pressed into the neat packages which 
you see on the shelves of the stores. 

Some girls sew the ends of these packages together, and 
others paste the name of the mills at which the cloth is 
made on one side of the package, after which they are 
wrapped in paper, and sent to all the cities and villages 
where there are little girls to wear dresses — and that is 
pretty nearly the world over, is it not ? 

Calicoes of but one color are dyed, not printed. 



FOURTH WEEK OF FEBRUARY. 129 



E|)tit SEeek of JTrtiruarg. 

[Especial attention may be drawn to tlie stars and stripes, and the 
children can easily comprehend that there was no such flag when 
Washington was a little boy; but when America became a self-govern- 
ing country, it had to have a flag of its own. The children will be 
much interested in a little information about national courtesies, as 
shown by the display of flags, in the rules governing the flags in for- 
eign waters ; the bravery of men who have upheld the flag of our nation 
under great difliculties and dangers. They would also be interested in 
the first United States flag raised on land, and in Paul Jones' United 
States flag, the first raised on an American war vessel at sea. See 
Winsor's "America'" and Preble's "History of the United States 
Flag." The points are given in the " Leading Facts of American 
History,'' Ginn & Co., pp. 175 (note 3) and 178. 

A review of sahent points of whatever has been told them of the 
history of Washington. Much of their block-building, drawing, sewing, 
and other occupations may be closely connected with facts of history.] 



jFourtij SEcck of jFcfaruarij. 

[The children should be led to tell how they spent the holiday, and 
what they saw or heard that made them think of General Washington.] 

AMY STEWART. 

There was once a little girl named Amy Stewart, who 
liked to play all day in the garden among the flowers and 
birds. She said they talked to her. 

One day her mother said, " You are old enough now, 
Amy, to do a little work, and you must begin early to be 
industrious." 



130 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

" O mamma ! I do not like to work ; may I not go in the 
woods and play before I begin to work ? " 

"As I have nothing ready for you to do just now, you 
may go for a little while," said her mother. 

So Amy ran out of doors. A pretty Gray Squirrel ran 
across her path, and she called to him, saying, — 

" Dear Squirrel, you have nothing to do but play and eat 
nuts, have you ? " 

" Yes," said Mr. Squirrel, " I have a large family to sup- 
port, and I am busy laying up nuts for the winter, so I 
cannot stop to play with you." 

Just then a Bee came buzzing by. Amy said, — 

" Little Bee, do you have any work to do .'' " 

" It seems to me I have no time for anything but work, 
getting honey and making the honeycomb." 

Amy now saw an Ant carrying a crumb of bread. 

" Is not that crumb too heavy for you .-' I wish you 
would drop it and play with me." 

" It is heavy, but I am too glad to get it not to be will- 
ing to carry it ; but I will stop long enough to tell you 
about a lazy day we once had. Our house was destroyed 
and I was too lazy to help rebuild it ; and I said to my 
brothers, * Let us go and travel ; perhaps we will find a 
house ready-made ; perhaps the butterflies will play with 
us.' We travelled a long way, but we found no ready- 
made house, and at last were obliged to build one for our- 
selves. Since then we have been contented to do all the 
work that we find necessary." The Ant then picked 
up the crumb of bread and hurried away. 

Amy sat down on a stone and thought : " It seems 
to me all creatures have some work to do, and they 
seem to like it ; but I do not believe Flowers have any- 



FOURTH WEEK OF FEBRUARY. I31 

thing to do." So she walked up to a Red Poppy, and 
said, — 

"Beautiful Red Poppy, do flowers work?" 
"Of course we do," said the Poppy. "I have to take 
great care to gather all the red rays the good Sun sends 
down to me, and I must keep them in my silken petals for 
you to use, and the green rays must be untangled and held 
by my glossy leaves, and my roots must drink water, my 
flowers must watch the days not to let the seed-time pass 
by — ah, my child, I assure you we are a busy family, and 
that is why we are so happy." 

Amy walked slowly homeward and said to her mother : — 
"The Squirrels, Bees, Ants, and even the Flowers have 
something to do. I am the only idle one ; please give me 
some work to do." 

Then her mother brought her a towel to hem, which she 
had begun so long before that she had quite forgotten it. 
She worked very faithfully and grew to be an industrious 
woman, never forgetting that work makes us happier than 
idleness. 

Anonymous. 



132 S TORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



jFtrst SEfcfe of ilarrt 

We have talked about the animals that went to sleep in 
the fall and remained sleeping all winter. Some of the 
plants have been asleep, too, and a few of them are just 
beginning to waken. We could hurry some of the little 
buds by bringing them in by the fire, and placing them in 
water when the sun shines. 

[Lilac leaves are easily forced, as well as cherry blossoms and pussy 
willows. 

Attention may be called to the little scale of willow bud, which chil- 
dren love to call the baby willow's blanket, which it throws off when 
the sun begins to warm all things. 

A chestnut-leaf bud and hickory-leaf bud may be shown with their 
furry coats for winter wear. The flow of sap in spring, giving juice to 
the buds, may be explained, and the extra supply which the maple-tree 
furnishes, in which there is such quantities of sugar for children as well 
as for leaf-buds. 

A bit of maple sugar for each child helps to impress these facts upon 
the minds of the little ones.] 

HELPS TO AN OBJECT LESSON ON PAPER. 
[This must always be preceded by the lesson on Cotton Cloth.] 

Can any child tell what is done with our dresses and 
aprons, and all our clothes that are made of cotton or 
linen, when they are quite worn out .-^ 

Yes ; the ragman takes them ; but what do you think 
he can do with them .-* He sells thern to the people who 
have paper mills. 



FIRST WEEK OF MARCH. 1 33 

In these mills the rags are thrown into a great machine 
with rollers that are covered with little teeth or knives that 
tear the rags all to bits ; they are washed and boiled until 
all the color comes out ; then they are ground and washed 
again until they are white and fine like this. [Show a bit 
of pulp.] 

We cannot call this pretty, white stuff calico, or even 
rags, any more, can we .'' It has a new name now : pulp. 

Great quantities of this pulp mixed with clear water are 
carried over sieves by machinery, and as it runs over the 
sieves the water runs through, and a thin sheet of pulp 
runs across the sieve into rollers that press it into a firmer 
shape ; it is paper ; but it is so wet that it must be rolled 
between hot iron rollers to dry it. When it comes out of 
these rollers it is like this. [Show a sheet of undressed 
paper.] 

The sheets of paper that come out of the rollers are 
as wide as three of our kindergarten tables, and so long 
that the end does not appear as long as the mill wheels keep 
turning ; but a woman cuts off large strips as fast as she 
can pile them up. To make smooth writing-paper, some- 
thing like starch is put into the paper as it runs through 
the rollers. 

The men who gather the rags from house to house can- 
not find enough in all the cities and country to make as 
much paper as we need, so the paper-makers have to use 
something else with the rags. Of course they look for 
something that grows out of doors, as the cotton and flax 
does. What can it be .'' 

Wood. 

Yes ; they use more wood now than rags. They chop 
and saw trees into small pieces, which are ground and 



134 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

washed until they are like this. [Show wood pulp.] What 
shall we call it ? 

Pulp. 

Sometimes they make paper of this alone. 

The wood is so good for paper-making, and they can get 
so much of it, for they use three kinds, poplar, spruce, and 
pine, that there is very little paper used now-a-days that 
has not a considerable quantity of wood in it. 

[The children will almost know, without being told, that silk and 
wool cannot be made into paper.] 



SECOND WEEK OF MARCH. 1 35 



^tconti Smcrk of JUarct), 

We had something sweet to eat last week ; does any- 
body remember what it was ? In what was the sugar 
found ? 

[Show a cube of loaf sugar, and encourage the children to note the 
difference between it and a cube of maple sugar. Tell them that this 
sugar is also found in the sap or juice of a plant, and give them a short 
account of the process of extracting the juice from sugar-cane, and boil- 
ing it until the water goes off in steam, leaving the sugar in the kettles. 
Show them a beet, and tell them the little sugar grains are hidden in 
its juices ; but not so well concealed but that the sugar finders get it, 
and sell a great deal of beet sugar in some parts of the world. Any 
personal experience of the teacher in a sugar-orchard will be hailed 
with delight, and a little maple syrup may be boiled in the presence of 
the children, over an alcohol or kerosene stove, and the evaporation 
noticed ; with a little trouble a valuable object lesson may be combined 
with a story of the process of sugar manufacturing.] 



SECOND LESSON, OR REVIEW OF PAPER-MAKING. 

[Show a bit of paper, and ask of what it is made. Show colored 
paper, and tell how the dye is put into the wet pulp.] 

The papers used for paper-folding in kindergarten, that 
are colored only on one side, are so colored by putting 
colored paste on one side of the sheet of white paper as it 
passes between the rollers. 

Coarse brown paper is made of old hemp carpets, and 
often of straw. 



136 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

[Ask the children to bring bits of paper, and let them compare kinds 
and colors and tell, if they can, how it is that some paper is colored on 
one side only, and some is colored through and through. Nothing 
tixes facts in their minds like investigation for themselves, and the 
child who brings its own bit of paper is likely to remember about that 
particular kind of paper. 

It will not injure the samples of pulp to put them in water, if great 
care is taken that the water is clear and the sample thoroughly and 
quickly dried before putting away. 

No teacher should make incorrect statements about growths or man- 
ufactures. If she does not know the exact truth about any question 
asked by the children, by all means let her say she does not know, but 
she will try to find out, and then let her be cautious about her authority. 
She should know, and know that she knows, before telling what kind 
of wood or metal she handles.] 



THIRD WEEK OF MARCH. 137 



^Ijirtr SEfcfe of JKardj, 

We have learned a great deal about the sap of the 
maple-tree. People used to believe that in every tree 
there was hidden a beautiful woman ; and they thought 
she was singing when the wind sighed among the branches, 
or that they heard her dress rustle when the evening 
breeze stirred the leaves. We have learned that these 
people made a mistake about these things ; but they made 
none in thinking the trees were beautiful in every part. 

You have learned some of the uses of various kinds of 
trees. Some furnish sugar, and some the strong timbers 
for ships ; some give us broad leaves for fans, and others 
supply us with fruits and nuts. There are some trees 
that grow in great numbers in South America that bear 
no fruit or nuts for us ; but they are as full of milk-white 
juice as our maple-trees are full of clear sap; they are 
bored much as our maple-trees are, and the thick, white 
juice is gathered in pails, and smoked until the water is 
nearly evaporated ; then it is taken in great, dark-colored, 
smoky liimps, and piled into ships, and brought to New 
York and Boston, and put into the rubber factories ; for 
the milk-white sap is rubber, and the tree that gives it to 
us is the rubber-tree. Bring in some of your overshoes 
and waterproofs, and we will see what other things in the 
room came from the rubber-tree. 

[The teacher may have at hand a leadpencil, with rubber eraser, 
a bit of elastic ribbon, some rubber bands, etc., allowing the chil- 
dren to " find" these things, and ask questions about them. 



138 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

The story of Kitty Caoutchouc may be told in this connection. 
The First Object Lesson on Rubber may precede the story of Kitty 
Caoutchouc] 

HELPS TO OBJECT LESSONS ON RUBBER. 

[Begin by asking the children to find as many things as they can 
that are made of rubber ; the result will probably be a pair of over- 
shoes, a rubber ball, an eraser, and the chair tips. Some kindergartens 
have a rubber doll, and some a rubber cow ; but it would be better to 
have the children think about rubber a week after this lesson, and 
bring their own samples of manufactured rubber, for the second lesson, 
than to give them too many things at once.] 

The rubber-tree grows in all very hot countries. Such 
as those in which the Brown Baby and the Black Baby 
live. It is a tall, slender tree, with leaves shaped much 
like our chestnut leaves, though having smooth edges, 
and being much thicker and more glossy than any of the 
leaves in this country. 

Men bore holes in the rubber-trees, and put in faucets 
— and what runs out of the faucet .-^ No, not water, but 
milk ; the milk is not good to drink, and it is thick like 
cream, and sticks like molasses. The men take some 
sticks covered with clay, and dip them in these pails of 
rubber milk, and then hold them in smoke until the milk 
turns stiff like warm molasses candy ; then they dip the 
stick in the milk again. Every time the stick is dipped in 
the milk, some of it clings, until there is as much on the 
stick as a man can lift ; the stick, being covered with clay, 
is easily pulled out, but the clay stays in ; these great 
bunches of hardened rubber milk are put in ships and sent 
to the rubber factories in Boston and New York, and 
other large cities. 



THIRD WEEK OF MARCH. 1 39 

When the milk stops running from the faucet, another 
hole is bored in the tree, and the faucet put in the new 
place, until the tree has been milked three times ; when it 
is left to rest three years to make more milk. 

This hardened milk is rubber, all smoky, you remem- 
ber, and here is a piece of it (No. i), which a man sawed 
off for us. In the rubber factory, they put these great 
lumps of rubber against saws, that whirl very fast, and 
saw them up into such cakes as this (No. i) ; and then it 
is put in a machine and chopped as fine as hash, after 
which the smoke and clay are washed out, until it is white 
as milk again. This piece (No. 2) has been washed and 
chopped, but it turns dark by staying in the light. The 
day it was taken from the rubber factory it was white as 
wool. 

After being washed and chopped fine, it is pressed out 
in thin sheets, and put away to get perfectly dry, which 
takes many months. 

When it is dry it is ready to be pressed into balls ; but 
other things have to be mixed with it to make it gray, 
yellow, or brown, as you see it in things made of rubber ; 
for it will always turn black unless something is put in to 
make it another color. 

[Samples of rubber, as numbered above, are in the Cabinet of the 
Boston Kindergartens, for use of the teachers.] 

KITTY CAOUTCHOUC. 

Once upon a time a little princess was going on a jour- 
ney with her papa and mamma, the king and queen of No- 
where-land. When the little princess had filled her little 
trunk with her little shoes, little hats, and little gloves, and 



I40 STORIES AND MORNmc TALK'S. 

the little horses and carriage were quite ready for her to 
start, she sat down on the steps of the palace and began to 
cry so loudly that the king and queen and all the servants, 
and all the children who had been staring at the little 
carriage, gathered about her, all asking at once, — 

"Why does your little highness cry ? " 

The little princess put her little fists in her little eyes 
and cried louder than before. One of the street children 
offered her a bit of sticky candy from his pocket, but she 
sobbed, " I have six pounds of candy in my trunk ; I do 
not cry for candy ! " 

The king turned away and wiped his eyes, after which 
he offered her a gold piece ; but she did not stop crying, 
though she put one of her little fists in her little pocket and 
made the little gold pieces jingle rather angrily, while she 
sobbed, " I have gold pieces ; it is not for gold I cry." 

A servant came running toward her with a plate of cake ; 
but the little princess would have none of it, for she had 
eaten nothing all day but cake, and when had they ever 
seen her cry for cake .'* 

The queen called a doctor who was riding past, and the 
doctor took a bottle of medicine from his case ; but the 
little princess shut her teeth and muttered that she was 
not ill, and would not cry for medicine if she were. 

Then the queen sat down on the steps and covering 
her eyes with a lace handkerchief began to cry almost as 
piteously as the princess herself, and they might have been 
crying yet but for a dear old grandma who happened to be 
passing, and said, — 

"Bless her heart, I know what she wants," — and taking 
off her own apron she rolled it up, pinned her silk hand- 
kerchief around it for a shawl, and placed it in the arms 



THIRD WEEK OE MARCH. I4I 

of the princess, who stopped crying, hugged the doll in 
her arms, climbed into the carriage, and rode joyfully 
away. 

The doll was named Caro Calicut because she was made 
of calico, and she and the princess rode many miles to- 
gether ; but the pins would fall out of the shawl, and the 
body would spread itself out like a sail in the carriage, or 
tumble itself out of all human shape when it was supposed 
to be sleeping beside the princess, until the little mother 
grew tired of asking Caro Calicut where she had left her 
feet, and what had become of her face. 

One day the little princess sat down upon the pavement 
in the great city of Paris, and wiping her eyes with Caro 
Calicut's red silk shawl, she cried, "Now where is Caro 
Calicut herself.'' " 

No one could answer. 

The king said perhaps the ragman had her, and the 
queen said perhaps she had sailed away on the wind. 

Then the little princess cried louder than before, and the 
king ran away as fast as he could, returning in a few min- 
utes with a doll almost as large as the princess herself. 

This doll had real hair and blue eyes ; her cheeks were 
rosy, and her arms were plump and were so jointed that 
the doll could be made to put her hands over her eyes or 
behind her head. The little princess stopped crying, 
kissed the new doll, and named her Semiramis Cera, be- 
cause she was made of wax. 

The princess and Semiramis Cera had many happy hours 
together, but one warm day the princess forgot to provide 
a sunshade for Semiramis Cera, who sat with the driver all 
day, and at night she had the measles, — at least the princess 
called the disorder of her face the measles, and neither the 



142 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

king nor queen corrected her ; the maid said it was a mercy 
it was not small-pox. 

Caro Calicut had been found the day after the purchase 
of Semiramis Cera, and as the little princess refused to 
leave either of the dolls at a hospital, an ambulance was 
purchased in which the dolls rode after the royal family, 
for fear the new member would take the measles or have a 
spasm when Caro Calicut should go through with some of 
her transformations. 

The new member was made of china and was therefore 
named Carrie Ceramics ; but Carrie Ceramics fell out of 
the carriage just as it was going over the narrow road be- 
tween North and South America, and in the fall her arm 
was broken and she had to be removed to the ambulance ; 
so the poor little princess rode toward Para with empty 
arms. I must say that the dolls in the ambulance appeared 
very well and happy, and were quite as attentive to the 
scenery as they were before the accidents. 

The royal family soon drove into a country where the 
flowers were very large and brilliant ; the trees had leaves 
thicker than our dinner-plates and greener than the green- 
est leaves of the greenest June you ever saw. At last the 
trees made the roads quite impassable for carriages, and 
the royal family concluded to walk a little way ; but the 
princess would not leave her family behind, nor would she 
trust them to maids or coachmen, so the king carried Caro 
Calicut, the queen carried Semiramis Cera, and the prin- 
cess led Carrie Ceramics by the arm which was not broken. 

They had not walked far when they met a little black 
girl carrying a doll whose arms would not break though 
she should fall from a house-roof, nor would she get the 
measles by riding all day in the sun, nor would she resolve 



THIRD WEEK OF MARCH. 1 43 

herself into elements if pins and strings were lost, or dis- 
solve if she were left in the bath-tub all day. 

The entire party sat down in the shade of a rubber-tree, 
and the little black girl introduced her doll — Katharina 
Caoutchouc — to Carrie Ceramics, Semiramis Cera, and 
Cara Calicut. 

As a matter of course the little princess did not leave 
South America without a rubber doll. 



144 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



JFourtf) SEcrk of fHarct 

Do you know from what the maple-tree grows ? • 

What tree would grow from an apple seed ? 

What tree would grow from an acorn ? 

What tree would grow from an orange seed ? 

Our plants grow from seeds, and before the frost is out 
of the earth, so that we can plant flower seeds out in the 
gardens ; we will plant some in the boxes or flower pots in 
the house. 

[The teacher may direct the planting of nasturtiums, morning- 
glories, etc.] 

We want to see how they grow ; but if we dig them up 
every day, we shall spoil them ; so when we put some in 
the earth, we will put others in this sponge where we can 
see what they do. 

[Place a sponge in a glass which is narrower at the bottom than the 
top, and put in water until it is within an inch of the sponge ; tuck 
some seeds in the pores of the sponge, taking care that the water is 
supplied as it evaporates. As the seeds sprout, have the children name 
the parts, — roots, stem, and leaves. 

Story of Cotton Cloth and Paper, the Story of the Gardener, from 
Prang's picture, the Story of the Pea-Blossom, or Second Object Lesson 
on Rubber, may be given.] 

SECOND LESSON ON RUBBER. 

Specimens of manufactured rubber are supplied in the 
box marked " Second Lesson on Rubber," to be given 
after the children are impressed with the fact that the 
rubber is not made in the factory. 



FOURTH WEEK OF MARCH. 



145 



The water-proof qualities of the rubber may be shown 
by pouring a cup of water in the musHn bag and then try- 
ing the same experiment with the water-proof bag. Per- 
haps this will help the children to remember their over- 
shoes on rainy days. 

The rubber is spread upon the cloth by running them 
both through hot iron rollers. 

The elasticity of the rubber can be shown by passing 
the tape and elastic band to the children, letting them 
make their own experiments. Some of them will be likely 
to measure the unstretched band and then the stretched 
band on the tables. 

These elastic ribbons are made by stretching the little 
rubber threads as long as they can be stretched, and then 
weaving in a silk or cotton thread until a long ribbon is 
made ; of course, as soon as it is unfastened at the ends it 
draws up as we see it. 

Lead the children to tell of as many things that are 
made of rubber as they can. A picture of each article not 
in the room might be drawn upon the board. 

Pillows and cushions, little red balloons, hose-pipes, 
erasers, water-proofs, and overshoes are the most common 
things. 

Pen-holders, knife-handles, buttons, combs, and bracelets 
are made of rubber by adding something to it to make it 
harder. 

Even boats and bottles are made of it. 

A man told me that our rubber balls are all made in 
New York and our dolls in France. 



146 STOEIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

THE PEA-BLOSSOM. 

There were once five peas in one shell ; they were green, 
and the shell was green, and so they believed that the 
whole world must be green also, which was a very natural 
conclusion. 

The shell grew and the peas grew ; they accommodated 
themselves to their position, and sat all in a row. The 
sun shone without and warmed the shell, and the rain 
made it clear and transparent ; it was mild and agreeable 
in broad daylight and dark at night, as it generally is ; 
and the peas, as they sat there, grew bigger and bigger, 
artd more thoughtful as they mused, for they felt there 
must be something for them to do. 

" Are we to sit here forever } " asked one ; " shall we not 
become hard by sitting so long .'' There must be something 
outside ; I feel sure of it." 

And so weeks passed by ; the peas became yellow, and 
the shell became yellow. 

" All the world is turning yellow, I suppose," said they, 
— and perhaps they were right. 

Suddenly they felt a pull at the shell ; it was torn off, 
and held in human hands, then slipped into the pocket of 
a jacket, in company with other full pods. 

"Now we shall soon be let out," said one, — just what 
they all wanted. 

" I should like to know which of us will travel farthest," 
said the smallest of the five ; " we shall soon see now." 

"What is to happen will happen," said the largest pea. 

"Crack!" went the shell as it burst, and the five peas 
rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a 
child's hand. A little boy was holding them tightly ; he 



FOURTH WEEK OF MARCH. 1 47 

said they were fine peas for his pea-shooter. And imme- 
diately he put one in and shot it out. 

"Now I am flying out into the wide world," said the 
pea ; " catch me if you can ; " and he was gone in a 
moment. 

" I," said the second, " intend to fly straight to the sun ; 
that is a shell that lets itself be seen, and it will suit me 
exactly ; " and away he went. 

"Wherever we find ourselves we will go to sleep," said 
the two next; "we shall still be rolling onwards;" and 
they did certainly fall on the floor, and roll about before 
they got into the pea-shooter ; but they were put in for all 
that. " We will go farther than the others," said they. " 

" What is to happen will happen," exclaimed the last, as 
he was shot out of the pea-shooter ; and as he spoke he 
flew up against an old board under a garret window, and 
fell into a little crevice, which was almost filled up with 
moss and soft earth. The moss closed itself about him, 
and there he lay a captive indeed, but not unnoticed by 
God. 

" What is to happen will happen," said he to himself. 

Within the little garret lived a poor woman, who went 
out to clean stoves, and do such hard work ; for she was 
strong and industrious. Yet she remained always poor ; 
and at home in the garret lay her only daughter, not quite 
grown up, and very delicate and weak. For a whole year 
she had kept her bed. 

Quietly and patiently she lay all the day long, while her 
mother was away from home at her work. 

Spring came, and early one morning the sun shone 
brightly through the little window, and threw his rays over 
the floor of the room. Just as the mother was going to 



148 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

her work, the sick girl fixed her gaze on the lowest pane 
of the window. 

"Mother!" she exclaimed, "what can that little green 
thing be that peeps in at the window ? It is moving in 
the wind." The mother stepped to the window and half 
opened it. "Oh!" she said. "There is actually a little 
pea that has taken root and is putting out its green leaves. 
How could it have got into this crack } Well, now, here 
is a little garden for you to amuse yourself with." So the 
bed of the sick girl was drawn nearer to the window, that 
she might see the budding plant ; and the mother went 
out to her work. 

"Mother, I believe I shall get well," said the sick child 
in the evening ; " the sun has shone in here so brightly 
and warmly to-day and the little pea is thriving so well ; I 
shall get on better, too, and go out into the warm sunshine 
again." 

" God grant it ! " said the mother. She propped up 
with a little stick the green plant which had given her 
child such pleasant hopes of life, so that it might not be 
broken by the winds ; she tied the piece of string to the 
window-sill and to the upper part of the frame, so that the 
pea-tendrils might twine round it when it shot up. And 
it did shoot up ; indeed, it might almost be seen to grow 
from day to day. 

" Now really here is a flower coming," said the mother 
one morning. She remembered that for some time the 
child had spoken more cheerfully, and during the last few 
days had raised herself in bed in the morning to look with 
sparkling eyes at her little garden which contained but a 
single pea-plant. 

A week later the invalid sat up for the first time a whole 



FOURTH WEEK OF MARCH. 1 49 

hour, feeling quite happy by the open window in the warm 
sunshine, while outside grew the little plant, and on it a 
pink pea-blossom in full bloom. The little maiden bent 
down and gently kissed the delicate leaves. This day was 
like a festival to her. 

" Our heavenly Father himself has planted that pea, 
and made it grow and flourish, to bring joy to you and 
hope to me, my blessed child," said the happy mother, and 
she smiled at the flower. 

But what became of the other peas .'' Why, the one who 
flew out into the wide world, and said, " Catch me if you 
can," fell into a gutter on the roof of a house, and ended 
his travels in the crop of a pigeon. The two lazy ones 
were carried quite as far, for they also were eaten by 
pigeons, so they were at least of some use ; but the fourth, 
who wanted to reach the sun, fell into a sink, and lay 
there in the dirty water for days and weeks, till he had 
swelled to a great size. 

" I am getting beautifully fat," said the pea ; " I expect 
I shall burst at last ; no pea could do more than that, I 
think ; I am the most remarkable of all the five which 
were in the shell." 

But the young maiden stood at the open garret window, 
with sparkling eyes and the rosy hue of health upon her 
cheeks, and folded her thin hands over the pea-blossom, 
thanking God for what he had done. 

Andersen. 



150 STOHIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

CLOTH AND PAPER STORY. 
[Story that may be told after the lessons on Cloth and Paper.] 

Beside a large field stood three trees, — a very tall poplar- 
tree, a middle-sized pine-tree, and a tiny little spruce-tree. 
In the field grew many hundred little plants ; they were about 
as high as our tables here in the kindergarten. One morn- 
ing the plants had many thousands of straw-colored flow- 
ers. The tall poplar-tree wished he had flowers as large 
for him as the straw-colored ones were for the little plants ; 
and the middle-sized pine-tree sighed and wished he had 
some kind of flowers in place of so many millions of leaves 
like green needles ; and the tiny little spruce-tree said it 
would be very pleasant these hot days to carry flowers that 
looked like straw-colored silk parasols. 

(The blossom of the cotton plant is much like a small 
single hollyhock.) 

One morning when they awoke, all the pretty straw-col- 
ored flowers had turned pink, and the trees looked on in 
great wonder, and then looked at their own leaves to see 
if they too had changed color in the night, but every leaf 
was as green as it was the day before. But the little plants 
did not stop to look at themselves or even at the tall trees, 
but kept at their work day and night, until the sun and the 
rain and the wind had faded, spoiled, and torn their pink par- 
asol flowers all to bits, and they were thrown on the ground, 
to be of use there. The stems or handles the plants still 
held quite upright, and in a few days there were little green 
pockets with pretty fringes around them, growing just 
where the parasol flowers had been. The trees were greatly 
pleased with the little workers, and cried : " Hurrah for you, 
little plants ! I wonder what you carry in your pockets ! " 



FOURTH WEEK OF MARCH. 151 

Very soon the green pockets turned brown and popped 
open, every one showing a little ball of snoiv-zvJiite cotton. 

The field looked then as if a storm of ready-made snow- 
balls had fallen upon the plants. 

While they were standing there, some children came out 
to play kindergarten under the three trees, and they said 
something about having a motto; and the motto was just 
one little word, — Help. 

When the children went away, the trees and plants agreed 
that they would have the same motto since it seemed to 
make the children so happy. Then they laughed at them- 
selves and wondered how they could help anybody even if 
they knew of any one who needed help. 

We shall see. 

Very soon some people came with baskets and picked all 
the white balls of cotton, and -every time they carried a 
basketful past the trees, the cotton would whisper, " Re- 
member our motto is Help." And the trees would answer, 
" Our motto is Help ; we shall meet again somewhere." 

The cotton was taken to a mill and made into cloth for 
children's dresses, and the dresses were nearly worn out 
when a man went to the field and chopped down the tall 
poplar-tree, and the middle-sized pine-tree, and the tiny 
spruce-tree. After chopping them down he sawed them 
into little pieces and took them to a mill. The calico 
dresses were quite worn out now, and having been sold to 
the ragman, were put in a cart and taken to the very same 
mill, so that one man was tossing a bundle of rags into one 
door while another was tossing the bits of wood in at 
another. 

In one great boiler, there in the mill, the bits of cloth 
were torn and boiled and ground to pulp. In another great 



152 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

boiler in the mill the bits of wood were torn and boiled and 
ground into pulp, and at last they met in a great box — 
wood and rags as white as snow. 

Somebody went into the mill, and said, "What a noisy 
place ! " But a little boy said, — 

"I hear something besides noise. 

" Just listen to the water, and the wheels, and the bands ; 
and the saws, and the knives ! They are all singing, ' Help, 
help.' " Something else was repeating this motto deep down 
in the box where the cotton pulp and wood pulp were danc- 
ing and whirling in the water. True enough ; they had 
found each other and were being made into something both 
useful and pretty. 

"Paper!" 

Yes, they were being made into paper, and this is what 
was written on the paper : — 

Help, help, help ! Help with a will. 
Help in field and help in mill ; 
Whether you are child or man, 
Tree or plant, you must and can 
Help, help, help ! 



FIRST WEEK OF APRIL, 153 



JFtrst SErcfe of ^priL 

[The children may be led to closer observation of roots. Potatoes, 
turnips, and carrots may be drawn. A few grains of wheat sowed in 
a sponge, as above directed, afford a beautiful specimen of thread- 
roots. 

The story of Baby Calla may be told. 

If there is any disagreeable tendency to observe All Fools' Day, a 
little conversation about the history of the day, and its general observa- 
tion among people who have limited sources of amusement, will aid in 
checking unkindness. The practical application of the golden rule will 
keep the children on the kindly side of fun. 

A deep moral impression may be made by reference to each seed 
producing its kind, and then asking what kinds of action and feeling 
grow where children act and feel unkindly or rudely.] 



BABY CALLA. 

Baby Calla has been put into her little bed by the 
kind gardener. 

It was not a clean white bed with pretty hangings, in 
which she lay. 

There were no great, fluffy pillows for her golden head 
to nestle against. The sheets that covered her were 
brown and damp, and the place was very dark. 

When the man made up the bed for the little baby, he 
took great pains to have it smooth and nice. He patted 
it gently with his trowel, and left the blankets off all day, 
that the sun mio^ht warm it. 



154 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

Then he laid the httle baby in very carefully, and 
covered her over with the brown blankets. He did not 
allow even the tip of her nose to show above them. 

Baby Calla did not want to be covered up. But the 
wise old gardener knew what was best for such little tots, 
and he packed her snugly in. 

" Oh, how cruel to make me lie here in this dark place ! " 
cried the little one. " It was bad enough, I am sure, in 
the box, but this damp, musty bed is a thousand times 
more dreadful ! " 

Then she lay quite still, thinking. 

" I wonder how long I am to stay here ! " she cried, 
after trying in vain to drop off to sleep. 

Then she tried to throw off the blankets, but they were 
so heavy she could not lift them. 

" Oh dear, oh dear ! How very tiresome it is, to be 
sure ! If I were only a little bigger, I would not be many 
minutes in getting these dirty old bedquilts off my poor 
head. How I do wish that I could grow ! " 

Just then a clear, soft light from a pretty lantern lit up 
the place where she lay, and something cool touched her 
face. 

"Wait," said a queer little voice beside her, — "wait, 
and you shall grow." 

" How do you know that } " asked Baby Calla, gazing in 
wonder at the handsome lamp which the stranger carried. 

" Oh," was the reply, " I have seen hundreds of nice 
babies, just like you, put in the beds and covered up. 
They always come up beautifully." 

" How do they get out ^ " asked Baby Calla. 

"Well, they grow — and grow — and grow, until they 
are quite large enough and strong enough to throw off the 



FIB ST WEEK OF APRIL. 1 55 

covers and look out. You will be very beautiful by and 
by if you wait." 

"My good friend, you seem to know everything," said 
the Baby Calla. " Perhaps you will tell me your name." 

" Indeed I will ! It is Glowworm." 

" That is a pretty name. Do you always carry a lamp 
with you .''" 

"Yes, always. But it burns brightest in damp places. 
Now I must be going. Good by." 

Sometimes a small army of tiny creatures would tramp 
past her, but it was too dark for her to see them. 

Soon she found a new, strange feeling swelling within 
her bosom. Then a voice said, " Arise, my child, for it is 



mornmg 



And as she lifted her head above the brown coverlet, lo ! 
the plain wrapper she had worn so long unclasped itself 
from about her neck, and slipped off. 

Then she was in the light again. " Oh, how lovely it 
is ! " she said. 

She looked about her and saw so many things that she 
quite forgot herself. But when she remembered to look, 
she stood bathed in the beautiful sunlight, robed in the 
finest green satin, with diamonds on her bosom. 

And she grew, and grew, fairer and fairer, taller and 
more stately, until the dear little glowworm's light could 
no longer shine upon her face. 

Then the gardener came one day, and with his trowel 
lifted her and placed her in a lovely vessel of gold and 
silver. After this she was carried to the palace of the 
good little Princess Lightheart. 

And the dear Princess Lightheart called her Calla Lily. 

From Stickney's Reader. 



156 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS 



^econti SEceft of ^priL 

The birds that went to the warm country last autumn 
are coming back to us. The trees will soon be covered 
with green leaves, and the birds will be flying about with 
straws and feathers in their beaks. Last September we 
heard a story about a bramble bush which we will hear 
again this week. 

THE WIND AND THE SUN. 

The North Wind and the Sun once fell into a dispute as 
to which was the stronger of the two. They related their 
famous exploits, and each ended as he began, by thinking 
he had the greater power. 

Just then a traveller came in sight, and they agreed to 
test the matter by trying to see which of them could soon- 
est get off the cloak he wore wrapped around him. The 
boastful North Wind was the first to try. 

He blew a most furious blast, and nearly tore the cloak 
from its fastenings at his first attempt ; but the man only 
held his cloak the more closely, and old Boreas spent his 
strength in vain. Mortified by his failure to do so simple 
a thing, he at last withdrew. 

Then came the kindly Sun, dispelling the clouds that 
had gathered, and sending his warmest rays straight down 
upon the traveller's head. Growing faint with sudden 



SECOND WEEK OF APRIL. 1 57 

heat, the man quickly flung aside his cloak, and hastened 
for protection to the nearest shade. 

You may guess if you can who made that story. 

[When the children have guessed " y^sop," let them give a little 
sketch of him if any of them remember about him, and if they cannot 
recall anything, the teacher may repeat. A reference to the cabinet 
with the clay mouse and lion, or hare and tortoise, will aid the memory.] 



158 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



Eftirti mtt\ of ^pril 

You will learn, if you watch the birds, that they do not 
all build their nests in the same way. Some people like 
brick houses and some like houses of wood ; some like 
cottages and some prefer houses that look like churches ; 
the birds have their own tastes and fashions of building, so 
that the people who have studied their habits can tell at 
once what kind of bird built any nest you may show them. 
Even a small child will soon learn to know an oriole's nest 
from that of a robin, and a yellow-bird's nest from that of 
a swallow. 

[Every teacher must have some personal observation of nest-build- 
ing to tell the children, which will possess greater interest for them 
than any story from books.] 

A QUEER PLACE FOR A BIRD'S HOME. 

One evening a poor man, who had travelled many miles, 
lay down on the leaves in a pleasant wood to sleep. Before 
he went to sleep he pulled off one shoe, for it had chafed 
his foot and made it very sore. In the morning when he 
tried to put on his shoe, it hurt his foot so badly that he 
groaned aloud. He gave up trying to wear it, and threw 
it into the bushes. 

The shoe caught in the fork of a young maple-tree, and 
hung fast by the heel, with the toe downward. The poor 
man limped away on his journey, and went I don't know 
where. 



THIRD WEEK OF APRIL. 159 

Before many days a bright-eyed little bird spied the shoe. 
She thought it would be a fine place to build a home in. 
So she and her mate brought fine twigs and straw and 
leaves in their bills. They placed them in the shoe in 
pretty nest-shape, and lined their new house with soft hair 
and wool. 

Beth and her papa were out searching the woods for 
wild flowers one day. The shadow of the shoe fell on the 
moss beneath the little maple. 

Looking up, Beth saw the nest. Her papa bent the 
maple down, and Beth looked in. She saw five cunning 
little blue eggs lying cosily against the gray lining. 

Beth is a tiny girl, just passed being rocked to sleep in 
mamma's lap. She laughed aloud, and clapped her fat 
little hands for joy, when she saw this dainty sight. 

"There will be birds here before long," said her papa, 
"and you shall come to see them." 

From Stickney's Reader. 



l60 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 



JFourtI) mn\\ of ^priL 

Can you name any of the great and good people of whom 
you have heard this year ? 

The kindergartens in Germany and America are going 
to celebrate a birthday this month, the birthday of the best 
friend the children have had since the Christ Child came 
to the earth. 

The name of this friend is Frederic Froebel. 

[Tell the story of Froebel's life]. 



JTiftlj SEcefe of ^priL 

We have no more snowstorms now, but instead we have 
"April showers," which the children often say "bring 
May-flowers." 

How do you think the water gets up into the clouds } 

[Be sure to get the children's notions before giving them the facts.] 

[Sprinkle the floor, being sure that the floor is clean, or the experi- 
ment will fail. When the water has evaporated, ask the children where 
it has gone. If the floor is too dusty for this experiment, a clean 
handkerchief may be saturated with water and hung in the sun to dry. 
Get the children's ideas of what has become of the water when the 
handkerchief is dry. Tell them of the constant evaporation from the 
seas, lakes, and rivers.] 



FIFTH WFEK OF APRIL. l6l 

THE DROP OF WATER. 

[Get the children to guess on authorship.] 

You know, surely, what the microscope is — that wonder- 
ful little glass which makes everything appear a hundred 
times larger than it really is. 

If you look at a single drop of ditch water through a 
microscope, you will see a thousand odd-looking creatures, 
such as you never could imagine dwelling in water. The 
appearance is not unlike that of a whole plateful of shrimps, 
all jumping and crowding upon each other; and yet, after 
their fashion, they are merry and happy. 

Now, there was once an old man, whom his neighbors 
called Cribbley Crabbley — a curious name, to be sure: it 
meant something like creep-and-crawl. He always liked 
to make the most of everything, and when he could not 
manage it fairly, he tried magic. 

One day he sat looking through his microscope, or 
magnifying-glass, at a drop of water brought from a neigh- 
boring ditch. What a scene of scrambling and swarming 
it was, to be sure ! All the thousands of little creatures 
in the water jumped and sprang about. 

" Upon my word, this is really shocking ; there must 
surely be some way to make them live in peace and quiet, 
so that each attends only to his own concerns." And he 
thought and thought, but still could not hit upon any 
expedient. So he must needs have recourse to conjuring. 

" I must give them color, so that they may be seen more 
plainly," said he ; and accordingly he poured something 
that looked like a drop of red wine upon the drop of water. 
And now all the strange little creatures immediately be- 



1 62 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

came red all over, and looked for all the world like a whole 
town full of Indians. 

"Why, what have you here ?" asked another old magi- 
cian, who had no name at all, which made him even more 
remarkable than Cribbley Crabbley. 

" If you can find out what it is," replied Cribbley Crab- 
bley, " I will give it to you ; but I'll warn you you'll not 
do so easily." 

And now the conjurer without a name looked through 
the microscope. It really seemed to him that the scene 
before him was a whole town, where the people ran about 
in the wildest way. 

Those that were under wanted to be at the top, while 
those that chanced to be at the top must needs thrust 
themselves underneath ; the way they struggled and kicked 
and bumped their heads was quite shocking. 

"This is uncommonly droll and amusing!" said the 
nameless magician. 

" Do you think so.-' but what do you think it is .■' " asked 
Cribbley Crabbley. " Can you find it out .'' " 

" It is easy enough to guess, to be sure," was the reply 
of the nameless magician ; " easy enough. It is either 
Paris or Copenhagen or some other large city. I don't 
know which, for they are all alike. It is some large city, 
of course." 

" It is a drop of water from a puddle," said Cribbley 
Crabbley. 

Andersen. 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. 1 63 



jTirst TOcfk of fEajj. 

What is happening out in the fields ? Millions of little 
roots are creeping downward, and millions of little stems 
are climbing upward. The earth is often called " Good 
Mother" because it nourishes so many plants. Good 
Mother Earth has held all the little sleeping seeds and roots 
during the winter, and now she is feeding them as they 
awake from their sleep. 

[A Legend of the Cowslip may be told, What are the Dandelions? 
or Iddly Bung's April Christmas-Tree. The latter to be told whenever 
horse-chestnut-trees are in bloom. If the story of Flax is to be told, a 
pennyworth of flax seed may be sown, or each child provided with a 
tiny flower-pot in which three or four flax seeds may be placed, so that 
the fair blue blossom, " delicate as the moth's wing," may be observed 
by the children at a later period.] 

A LEGEND OF THE COWSLIP. 

There was a time, long ago, when the Cowslip had no 
golden blossoms. To be sure, she wished to have them, 
but as she did not know how to bloom, she contented her- 
self, for one summer, with her rich, dark leaves, and in 
autumn fell asleep with her feet curled close and warm 
under ground, and her head tucked beneath the cover 
which her mother had provided. 

But one night she woke with a little shiver, and said, — ■ 

"Mother, I'm cold ;" and her mother hastened to cover 

her with a gayly colored blanket of leaves, after which she 



164 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

slept many clays and nights, until a frosty, starry hour 
came, when she stirred a little, and whispered, — 

"Mother, I'm cold." 

Then her mother covered her with a white blanket, soft 
as down upon the mother-bird's breast, and our Cowslip 
slept softly but soundly many weeks. 

One May morning she heard a delightful rustling all 
around her, whereupon she nestled in her bed, not know- 
ing that the rustle was caused by the whispering of her 
companions under ground, who, like her, were just awaken- 
ing from happy dreams, pushing out their white feet, and 
stretching up their tiny hands, as you have seen waking 
babies do. 

Then she heard a robin sing ; but as the earth still cov- 
ered her, the song was but half-understood, and to hear 
better, she lifted her head high enough for a yellow sun- 
beam, who had been looking everywhere for her, to see 
her. 

She remembered both the sunbeam and the robin, and 
so glad was she to see them both, that she laughed a low, 
sweet " Ha, ha, ha, ha ! " and there she stood in full bloom, 
every ha, ha ! having become a smiling, sunny-hearted 
blossom. 

Of course she was amazed, and hung her head in a 
sweetly modest fashion, as do cowslips to this day ; for 
since that happy spring-time, not one of the family has 
forgotten to laugh itself into golden bloom, when it 
hears the robin and sees the yellow sunbeam of merry 
May. 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. ' 1 65 

WHAT ARE THE DANDELIONS? 

" Mamma, what are the dandelions ? " asked little Susy, 
as she saw them for the first time in her life, which you 
must know had not been very long. 

"They are flowers, Susy." 

" I know that, mamma ; but they are something more 
than — than — " but Susy could think of no flower which 
was only a flower to her ; so she asked another question. 

" Do their roots go down, down, very deep, mamma ? " 

" Deeper than the roots of most small flowers ; but why 
do you ask that, Susy } " 

" Oh, I thought they must go down to the gold, and 
draw it up into the sunshine ; that would make the gold 
happy, and that is the reason the dandelions laugh." 

Susy walked on without speaking again, until she and 
her mamma reached one of the pleasant parlors on Beacon 
Street, which overlooks the Common, and then she clapped 
her hands, and cried, — 

" I see it, I see it now ! Mamma, why didn't you tell me 
it was God's spatter-work } " 

" I did not think of that," answered her mamma. 

"What did you think.?" 

" Nothing so beautiful as your thought, my child ; but I 
will tell you. I thought of the beautiful myth of Freya, 
in whom the Goths believed. They tell that she was for- 
saken by her husband, and, in her grief, wandered all over 
the earth shedding golden tears." 

"And the dandelions grew up where her golden tears 
fell, didn't they, mamma.''" 

" Perhaps they did ; for the Goths tell that before her 
there was winter, but as soon as she passed, flowers sprang 
up, until the whole earth blossomed." 



1 66 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

IDDLY BUNG'S APRIL CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

Of course his real name was not Iddly Bunij ; but that 
was what he called himself when he tried to say " Little 
Ben," in answer to the oft-repeated question, " What is 
your name, little man ? " For no one passed the house in 
the outskirts of a Georgian city without noticing the great- 
eyed, small-bodied child who carried bundles of sticks, or 
buckets of water — the latter making him look like some 
strange animal with one broad ear standing upright ; for 
the bucket was not a bucket, neither was it a pail, but a 
piggin which he carried on his head. If you were to tell 
Ben that a piggin is a wooden dipper, Ben would laugh at 
you, and ask if folks didn't milk into piggins. If you said 
they did, he would say, " Well, folks don't milk into dip- 
pers, do they } " 

Ben was a poor boy who tried to do all he could for his 
mother, who went out to sew. As he was alone most of 
the time, he did not learn to talk plainly, as boys do who 
play much with other children. 

In the morning he would creep quietly out of bed, look 
lovingly at his mother, wishing it would not waken her to 
" love " her just a little. Ben had never learned that there 
was any love but that expressed by hugging, patting, and 
kissing. So he would deny himself until the fire was 
made, and the kettle placed over it, when he would kiss 
his mother's eyes open ; for she had let him think that 
they could not open until his lips unlocked them. Some- 
times he would open one of them with kisses, and play- 
fully threaten to keep the other shut all day ; and there 
would be great glee when the eyelid was unsealed with 
the precious kiss. 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. 1 67 

One April day, after the trees were quite green with 
leaves, the mountain brooks fringed with the sweet wild 
jessamine, and even the laurel had hung out its waxen 
sprays of pink and white blossoms to tell the children it 
was too late to look for arbutus. Captain Jennings started 
on horseback to look at the mountain streams, and learn 
if it were true that there was danger of a flood. Some- 
times the lovely valley land in Georgia is overflowed sud- 
denly ; for the snow high up in the mountains melts, and 
rushes down to the rivers faster than the rivers can run 
to the ocean. Then there is what they call a " back- 
water"; that is, the water is crowded back and spreads 
through the valley, covering houses and sometimes drown- 
ing people. Captain Jennings was alone, and as he gal- 
loped out into the open country, he saw a little boy riding 
a stick the same way in which he was going. 

The child looked so much like his little sister of thirty 
years ago, that he stopped and asked him his name, and 
how he would like to trade horses. The boy was Ben ; 
and, looking wishfully at the gay horse and handsome 
rider, thinking that he had never been on a real horse, and 
remembering what his mother had told him about the 
Good Friend who never made fun of people, he said boldly, 
with tears flashing in his great eyes, " I fought you was 
Dod ; but he wouldn't make fun of me and my sossy " 
(horse). Captain Jennings felt sad, for he did not mean 
to make fun of Ben ; and, thinking of the little sister, 
whose eyes used so easily to fill with tears, he said kindly, 
" I did not mean to make fun of you, my boy. Will you 
ride with me on this horse.''" "When will you bing me 
bat?" "Before sundown; jump up, little one." And 
Ben was on a live, prancing horse instead of a stick. 



1 68 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

They rode through thickets of oak, and Ben stripped 
the leaves as they flew past, and flung them to the wind, 
which seemed to him to meet them everywhere, just to 
catch his leaves and toss his hair. They scared up 
partridges, that whirred about with much ado, and sat 
down again while Ben was still in sight. What wonder- 
land was this to little Ben, who had never before been 
three miles from home! 

At last Ben saw something which made him cry softly, 
" Please stop ; there is Dod's own, own Trismas-tree ! " 
Captain Jennings stopped his horse and looked ; there 
stood a tree, forty feet high, with long leaves that looked 
like emerald jewels, with fretted edges, and tapers that 
held within them such soft, mellow light as never waxen 
tapers dreamed of shedding. Captain Jennings took off 
his hat, while Ben asked if they could not wait for the 
angels who lighted the candles to come back. You do not 
believe they saw any such thing .■* If you never saw a 
horse-chestnut-tree in bloom, you may well think this an 
untrue story ; but if you have seen one, you will not won- 
der that little Ben thought it " Dod's own, own Trismas- 
tree." Ben asked Captain Jennings if he thought the 
angels would care if he took a branch with just two candles 
to his mother. What a happy boy was he when he had 
the branch in his hand ! He hugged it to his breast, and 
kissed the candle, which he was sure the angels had but 
just touched. 

Captain Jennings had made up his mind that there was 
great danger of a flood, and he galloped home so fast that 
Ben could not catch a leaf of the trees that brushed his 
face as they hurried onward. They were soon at Ben's 
door, and Captain Jennings dropped Ben quickly to the 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. 1 69 

ground, and spurred his horse to a gallop, — thinking, as 
he did so, that this house of Ben's stood on low ground, 
but soon forgetting it in anxious work for the safety of the 
town. 

After working until late in the evening, Captain Jen- 
nings went to bed, leaving a boat chained to his window, 
and was soon asleep. Later in the night he was awakened 
by the steady, heavy patter, patter, patter, of rain upon his 
windows. He rose and looked out ; there was darkness, 
and cloud, and chilling rain above ; and below, the black 
water was creeping softly and darkly all around his house. 

There was no light where the stars sometimes shine, 
but far out on the water he saw red lights from scores of 
little boats that were gliding here and there, taking people 
to the hills, from houses that were fast filling with water. 

Captain Jennings did not want to go into all that cold 
and dark which was outside his door. He had moved up 
stairs, so he did not mind if the first floor of his house was 
filled with water. Why should he not go to bed and to 
sleep .'' It is not pleasant to row in a heavy rain, to dodge 
floating houses, and hear the cries of frightened children ; 
so he would go to bed. But as his head sank into the 
warm pillow, he thought of little Ben and " Dod's own, 
own Trismas-tree " ; of the low ground on which Ben's 
house stood ; the loneliness of the place ; the feelings 
which people must have who have no boat at such a time ; 
of the lost sister of whom Ben had made him think all 
day ; of that dark water, crawling with its soft plash 
higher, higher, higher, until — what if Ben and his "Tris- 
mas-tree " were left entirely to the angels ! 

Who knows but the angels were thus calling to Captain 
Jennings to help them .-' 



I/O STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Be that as it may, Captain Jennings was out in his boat 
by the time he had thought all this, and was rowing swiftly 
towards the little house, thinking of little Ben, the little 
" Trismas-tree," and the far-away little sister, who must 
be a woman now. 

As he came near the house, he heard a glad cry from 
Ben, who had seen the lantern coming that way. Ben 
and his mother were out on the house-roof, the water hav- 
ing nearly reached the eaves. But Ben, with the faith of 
a child and the courage of a man, was assuring his mother 
that help would come before they floated away. For " of 
tourse Dod watched his Trismas-tree," and must see Ben, 
who had a branch of it in his wee hand, really thinking 
more of the angels who lighted the candles than of any 
present danger. 

Of course they were taken from the roof to the boat, 
and carried to a place of safety. 

Ben thinks " Dod's Trismas-tree " saved their lives. 
Ben's mother thinks that it would have been from no for- 
getfulness or unkindness of their Heavenly Father if their 
lives had been lost. And Captain Jennings would like to 
know just how much the angels had to do with that flood, 
and the April Christmas-tree, and the finding of his dar- 
ling sister, whom Ben's mother proved to be. 



THE FLAX. 

The flax was in full bloom ; it had pretty little blue 
flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more 
so. The sun shone, and the showers watered it ; and this 
was as good for the flax as it is for little children to be 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. I /I 

washed and then kissed by their mothers. They look 
much prettier for it, and so did the flax. 

"People say that I look exceedingly well," said the flax, 
"and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beau- 
tiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am ! It makes me 
so happy, it is such a pleasant thing to know that some- 
thing: can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers 
me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain ! My happi- 
ness overpowers me ; no one in the world can feel happier 
than I. 

"To-morrow the sun will shine, or the rain descend. I 
feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. 
I am the happiest of all creatures." 

One day some people came, who took hold of the flax 
and pulled it up by the roots. Then it was laid in water, 
as if they intended to drown it ; and after that, placed near 
a fire as if it were to be roasted. 

"We cannot expect to be happy always," said the flax. 

It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, and combed ; 
indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it. At last it 
was put on the spinning-wheel. "Whirr, whirr," went 
the wheel, so quickly that the flax could not collect its 
thoughts. 

"Well, I have been very happy," he thought, "and I 
must be contented with the past;" and contented he re- 
mained till he was put on the loom, and became a beautiful 
piece of white linen. All the flax, even to the last stalk, 
was used in making this one piece. "Well, this is quite 
wonderful. I could not have believed that I should be so 
favored by fortune. How wonderful it is that, after all I 
have suffered, I am made something of at last. I am the 
luckiest person in the world, — so strong and fine ; and 



172 STORIES AND MORNmC TALKS. 

how white, and what a length ! This is something differ- 
ent from being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then, I 
had no attention, nor any water unless it rained ; now, I 
am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid 
turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the watering- 
pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman's wife noticed 
me, and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole 
parish. I canrtot be happier than I am now." 

After some time the linen was taken into the house, 
placed under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and 
then pricked with needles. This certainly was not pleas- 
ant ; but at last it was made into little dresses for babies ! 

"See now, then," said the flax ; "I have become some- 
thing of importance. This was my destiny ; it is quite a 
blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as 
every one ought to be ; it is the only way to be happy." 

Years passed away ; and at last the linen was so worn 
that the little dresses fell to pieces. " It must end very 
soon," said the sleeves to each other. " We would gladly 
have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect 
impossibilities." And at length they fell into rags and 
tatters, and thought it was all over with them, for they 
were torn into shreds, and steeped in water, and ground 
into a pulp, and dried, and they knew not what besides ; 
till all at once they found themselves beautiful white paper. 
" Well, now, this is a surprise ; a glorious surprise, too," 
said the paper. " I am now finer than ever, and I shall 
be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may 
have written upon me. This is wonderful luck ! " And 
sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were 
written upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was 
very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. 1 73 

read, and it made them wiser and better ; for all that was 
written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great 
blessing was contained in the words on this paper. 

" I never imagined anything like this," said the paper, 
" when I was only a little blue flower, growing in the 
fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the 
means of bringing joy to men } I cannot understand it 
myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have 
done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with 
my weak powers for my own preservation ; and yet I have 
been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each 
time I think that the song is ended, and then something 
higher and better begins for me, I suppose now I shall 
be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may 
read me. It cannot be otherwise ; indeed, it is more than 
probable, for I have more splendid thoughts written upon 
me than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier 
than ever." 

But the paper did not go on its travels. It was sent to 
the printer, and all the words written upon it were set up 
in type to make a book, or rather many hundreds of books, 
for so many more persons could derive pleasure and profit 
from a printed book than from the written paper ; and if 
the paper had been sent about the world, it would have 
been worn out before it had got half through its journey. 

" This is certainly the wisest plan," said the written 
paper. " I really did not think of that. I shall remain at 
home, and be held in honor like some old grandfather, as 
I really am to these new books. They will do some good. 
I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who 
wrote all this has looked at me as every word flowed from 
his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all." 



174 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, 
and thrown into a tub that stood in the wash-house. 

"After work, it is well to rest," said the paper, "and a 
very good opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I 
am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition ; 
and to know one's self is true progress. What will be 
done with me now, I wonder .'' No doubt I shall still go 
forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know 
cjuite well." 

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub 
was taken out and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People 
said it could not be sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and 
sugar, because it had been written upon. The children in 
the house stood round the stove, for they wanted to see the 
paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and afterwards, 
among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen running 
one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind. 
They called it seeing the children come out of school, and 
the last spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought 
the last spark had come, and one would cry, " There goes 
the schoolmaster!" but the next moment another spark 
would appear, shining so beautifully. How they would like 
to know where the sparks all went to ! Perhaps we shall 
find out some day, but we don't know now. 

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, 
and was soon alight. " Ugh ! " cried the paper, as it burst 
into a bright flame ; " ugh ! " 

It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning ; but 
when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted 
up into the air, higher than the flax had ever been able to 
raise its little blue flower, and they glistened as the white 
linen never could have g-listened. All the written letters 



FIRST WEEK OF MAY. 1 75 

became quite red in a moment, and all the words and 
thoughts turned to fire. 

" Now I am mounting straight up to the sun," said a 
voice in the flames ; and it was as if a thousand voices 
echoed the words ; and the flames darted up through the 
chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number of tiny 
beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax had 
been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them. 
They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers 
from which they were born; and as the flames were ex- 
tinguished, and nothing remained of the paper put black 
ashes, these little beings danced upon it, and whenever 
they touched it, bright red sparks appeared. 

" The children are all out of school, and the school- 
master was the last of all," said the children. It was good 
fun ; and they sang over the ashes, — 

"Snip, snap, snurre, 
Basse lurre. 
The song is ended." 

But the little invisible beings said, " The song is never 
ended ; the most beautiful is yet to come." 

But the children could neither hear nor understand 
this ; nor should they, for children must not know every- 
thing. 

Andersen. 



176 STOJilES AND MORNING TALKS. 



Seconti aEerk of fHau. 

Have you ever seen any birds building their nests ? 
Have you ever seen any birds' eggs ? What kinds of eggs 
have you seen ? The people of Norseland used to call 
butterflies Freya's hens. 

Butterflies lay beautiful little eggs ; some of them are 
so small that you can hardly see them, but under a magni- 
fying-glass you can see that the eggs of various kinds of 
butterflies differ as much as the eggs of a robin differ from 
those of a pigeon. 

By a little care the teacher can easily show the children 
the caterpillar, chrysalis, and butterfly of the Danais 
Archippus, or common milkweed butterfly. Look sharply 
on the under side of milkweed leaves where a yellow-white 
egg is deposited, or, if very near hatching-time, the Qgg 
will be a dull gray. The larva emerges from the Qgg in 
about a week, and seeing the tiny creature eat its own egg- 
shell is a delight. It is better to remove the tiny cater- 
pillar to a milkweed by the highway, as artificial conditions 
are too apt to bring only disappointment for the children, 
and full-grown larvae are easily captured which remain in 
chrysalis but thirteen days. The full-grown larva should 
be placed under a wire screen, with fresh milkweed leaves 
in a bottle of water. They are likely to go into the chrys- 
alis stage after a few days, and remain a little less than 
two weeks, when the butterflies will appear. 

The Colias, or common yellow butterfly, is also easily 
watched through three changes ; the caterpillar is a com- 



SECOND WEEK OF MAY. 1 77 

mon green one, a little more than an inch long, and is often 
found on clover leaves. The Cottage Place children found 
large numbers of them on the nasturtiums in the yard, 
some of which were transferred to the window-boxes and 
given the freedom of the house. A chrysalis attached 
itself to the window-pane, which we covered with plenty of 
mosquito-netting pasted to the sash, and one morning we 
had a perfect Colias, which took kindly to our fingers until 
its wings were well shaken out, when it was agreed he 
should fly where he pleased ; he pleased to stay in our win- 
dows a day or two, when he soared away. 

One such study of a butterfly will quench the desire to 
crush them under hats more effectually than any persua- 
sion or commands. 

[The story of The Green House with Gold Nails, or The Bees' 
Pockets, or Carl and The Earthworms may be told.] 

THE GREEN HOUSE WITH GOLD NAILS. 

Among the butterflies which flit gayly about our sum- 
mer flowers, there was one in which I was much interested 
last season. It has been my "progressive object card" 
for the summer, and I do not believe even the Little School- 
ma'am would object to my studies when I tell her that no 
pin or other instrument of torture has been used, either in 
its capture or mounting. 

How did I catch my butterfly .'' As I would advise all 
to do who wish for success and a perfect specimen. Take 
with you a box ; watch for a nice plump caterpillar ; break 
off the leaf you will easily find him feeding upon ; and 
when you have carried him home in the box put him on a 
white paper and invert a clear plain-glass tumbler quickly 



178 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

over him ; feed hira daily with whatever sort of leaf you 
found him eating, and you have caught your butterfly. 
You can see him through the glass, and will find it a 
source of enjoyment to watch from time to time his 
great changes.^ 

But it is of one particular kind I wish now to tell you. 
The caterpillar lives upon the common milkweed which 
grows by the roadside, with pinkish clusters of flowers in 
summer, and curious bird-shaped pods in the fall. This 
caterpillar is very pretty, and the butterfly is handsome ; 
but the crowning beauty of all is the chrysalis. It looks 
like a little green house, put together with gold nails. It is 
somewhat of the size and shape of a long, delicate pea-green 
acorn, and has a row of dots half-way around what would be 
the saucer of the acorn, with others about the size of a pin's 
head on different parts of the chrysalis, and you will say 
they are not like gold, but are real gold itself. 

The caterpillar, when full grown, is about two inches 
long. It is cylindrical, and handsomely marked with nar- 
row alternating bands of black, white, and lemon-yellow. 
The bands are not entirely even, and occasionally run into 
each other. On the top of the second ring or segment are 
two slender, black, thread-like horns, and on a hind ring two 
more, not quite as long as those near the head. You can 
find it almost any day in July or August, if you look closely 
on the under side of the broad leaves of the milkweed. 
It was the accidental finding of his chrysalis, attached to a 
spray of wild carrot, that led me to study this particular 
species. It was a secret to me — this beautiful green and 
gold house. It held something. What, I must know ! 

[lA wire screen is better than the glass for obvious reasons.] 



SECOND WEEK OF MAY. 1 79 

Cutting the stem of the carrot, I brought the treasure 
carefully into the house, covered it with a tumbler, and for 
a week it remained just the same. Then the green began 
to turn to a light purple, and lines began to show through the 
clear case. The front showed lines like a curtain, parted 
and folded back each way like a drapery, to the bottom. 
The back was curiously marked off. The whole gradually 
took on a very dark purple hue, and I hoped to see it open 
and give up its treasure. But though I watched very care- 
fully, it stole a march on me, and one morning I found its 
secret disclosed and fluttering below the empty chrysalis, 
now but a clear, rent tissue, with here and there a gold 
dot. The butterfly is handsome and quite large (more than 
three inches across when the wings are spread), but not 
quite so beautiful as you would infer from his elegant 
house. He is of a rich, tawny orange, bordered with 
velvety black on the upper side, and a lighter nankeen 
yellow below, and has a large velvety black head spotted 
with white. 

Learning that he came from the milkweed caterpillar, 
I went in quest of some. I was fortunate enough to find 
five. I put them in a glass fernery about one foot long 
and ten inches high, and fed them with fresh milkweed 
leaves daily. Soon they mounted, one after another, to 
the top, and began to work on the under side of the glass 
cover. My curiosity was on the alert to see how each 
would build his green house. I had seen cocoons of vari- 
ous kinds spun, but the glass-smooth chrysalis could not 
be spun. Oh, no ! "It was altogether too nice work to be 
done in sight. There was no sound of hammer or sight 
of tools. It was all polished and painted and ready — and 
lo ! the inner layers of the caterpillar's skin had been the 



l8o STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

workshop, and the outer skin was taken down and dis- 
carded, like worthless scaffolding, when the green and gold 
house was ready. Pretty soon there were five of these 
houses hanging from the glass roof, side by side ; and now 
there are five empty homes, still clinging by the little shiny 
black twist that fastens them firmly to the glass, and five 
handsome butterflies. Only one of all these did I see 
break the shell. The butterfly was packed, head down- 
ward, at the bottom of the chrysalis — wonderfully packed, 
as all will admit who see him emerge, to shake himself out 
into something five or six times as wide, a beautiful un- 
cramped butterfly. 

Mrs. Julia P. Ballard, in Insect Lives, or Born in a Prison. 

THE BEES' POCKETS. 

Bees are very curious little creatures. I suppose they 
are the most useful of all the insects that fly. They are 
only about an inch long, and yet what wonderful work 
they do, all summer long, making so much honey and wax 
for us ! 

They know, too, about every flower in our gardens, and 
all the signs of the weather ; and then they are so kind to 
their children. When they make their honey, I wonder 
if you know how they get their materials. Let me tell 
you. 

Bees have slender-pointed hairs upon their heads. The 
yellow hairs upon their legs, which we can see with the 
naked eye, turn out to be a hard, horny sort of comb 
which they use in the gathering and storing of the pollen 
of flowers. 

Besides this, the bees have two little baskets upon their 



SECOND WEEK OF MAY. l8l 

thighs which are the very nicest of side-pockets, just such 
as we should want for holding things. 

But what do you think they do with these pockets ? 
They first tuck their little heads into the heart of the rose 
or lily, or other sweet flower, for honey. In doing so they 
cover them all over with the yellow dust, which is the 
pollen. 

Then they take their fore-feet and brush it very care- 
fully from the hair, and pass it on to the middle feet, and 
on again to the hind-feet, where it is safely packed in these 
little pockets on the thighs. As soon as they are loaded, 
they fly away home and put it in some secret place. Some 
of the pollen is given to their babies, and some of it is 
worked up into wax. This, you know is made into cells. 

The bees are so industrious, that in five days, by the 
use of these pockets, they can half fill the hive with honey- 
comb. The honey-comb makes wax, and the wax is used 
in a great many ways. When you look at your most beau- 
tiful dolls, don't forget that they are really made by the 
bees, or at least that the wax for their faces is. You can 
learn a great deal about bees by carefully watching them 
about their hives or among the flowers. 

From Stickney's Reader. 



CARL AND THE EARTHWORMS. 

Carl's hands were dirty ; Carl's face was dirty ; Carl's 
finger-nails were black at the ends ; Carl's clothes were 
soiled ; Carl's hair was not brushed, and his head looked 
like an old chestnut burr. 

Carl could not tell if he had ever had a bath, and I do 
not believe that he had had rnore than three in the three 



1 82 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

years in which he had been able to walk alone. But when 
Carl went to the kindergarten, a gentlewoman took off his 
soiled clothes, put him in a tub of clean water, and with 
brush, soap, and towels, made him look almost like a 
cherub. When he was dressed in fresh clean clothes, he 
felt as if he could never be dirty again ; and he was so 
happy that when he went out to play, he wanted to make 
everybody and everything happy too. In the garden he 
found an earthworm, and by digging, he found as many as 
he had fingers ; and he ran for a wash-basin and some 
warm water, and before the gentlewoman knew what he 
was doing, he had them all washed, and was vainly trying 
to hang them on the fence to dry ; for, said he, " Poor dirty 
things ! they want to be clean for once in their lives." 
But they did not want to hang on the fence, and they did 
want to get back into the cool dark earth. When he 
understood that that would make them happy, he put them 
back, and heard, with great surprise, that they had much 
work to do underground, ploughing and boring the whole 
earth, making it soft and loose about the little seeds, so 
they can grow ; the earth needing as many of these little 
living ploughs as there are seeds. 

Now when Carl digs up an earthworm, he puts him 
back in great haste, saying, " Go back to your work, little 
earthworm ; you are good to my flower-seeds, and I will 
be good to you." 



THIRD WEEK OF MAY. 183 



^Dfttrtf SEerk of iHag. 

The children of our family all have the same family- 
name, but each has a name beside. There may be Harry 
Rowe, Fred Rowe, Nellie Rowe, and Mary Rowe, the last 
name showing to what family each child belongs. It is so 
among butterflies and flowers. 

There are a great many flowers, for instance, that 
belong to the Rose family, and many others that belong 
to the Lily family. 

Most children know roses from lilies as soon as they see 
them ; but there are some belonging to each family not so 
easily known. 

[A little help from the teacher will enable the children to recognize 
the most common representatives of the two families. The value of 
this is not, of course, in the bit of botanical knowledge, but in the sug- 
gestion to the children of the fields of delightful study opening before 
them.] 

OAK-TREE AND ACORN. 

Helps to an Object Lesson. 

Just as there are many children here with different 
names, so in the woods there are many trees, each having 
its own name. And as there are brothers and sisters 
among children, so there are relations among trees. This 
acorn which you see came from an oak-tree, whose first 
name is "Red." All the farmers, and woodmen, and 
sawyers, and ship-builders know him as Red Oak. He 



184 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

has brothers called Swamp Oak, Willow Oak, White 
Oak, etc. 

The oak-tree is very useful, for its wood is so hard and 
firm that it is used for building ships that must be strong 
enough not to split open when great iron nails and spikes are 
driven through them. The farmers use oak-trees to make 
into fences, because the wood will stand out in the rain 
and snow a great many years without spoiling. The wood 
of the oak-tree does not burn easily, so it is never used for 
kindling fires. 

Let us look at these acorns now. If we were to plant 
them in the ground, it would take nearly a hundred years 
for a large tree to grow from one of them. 

The acorn is the nut of the oak-tree ; but it is not good 
for children to eat ; the pigs like acorns very much. If. 
you look very sharply on this stem, you will see some 
baby acorns ; they were flowers last summer, and next 
summer they would have been large acorns if they had 
been left on the tree. The oak-leaf is so different from 
all other leaves that I think you will know it wherever you 
may see it. I will draw some oak-leaves, and you may 
color them with your brush and paint ; and you may make 
some acorns with the clay. Some very careful child could 
make a stem, leaf, and bunch of acorns that would look 
very much like one picked from the tree. 

[The acorn is easily modelled in clay, even by the beginners.] 

[Andersen's story of the Greenies may be told, the children again 
allowed to guess concerning the authorship. Saint Elizabeth and the 
Roses may be told, if preferable. The object lesson on the Oak-Tree 
and Acorn may be given.] 



THIRD WEEK OF MAY. 1 85 



THE GREENIES. 



A rose-tree stood in the window. But a little while ago 
it had been green and fresh, and now it looked sickly, — 
it was in poor health, no doubt. A whole regiment was 
quartered on it, and was eating it up ; yet, notwithstanding 
this seeming greediness, the regiment was a very decent 
and respectable one. It wore bright green uniforms. I 
spoke to one of the " Greenies " ; he was but three days 
old, and yet he was already a grandfather. What do you 
think he said } It is all true, — he spoke of himself and 
of the rest of the regiment. Listen ! 

We are the most wonderful creatures in the world. 
The wisest of the creatures, the ant (we have the greatest 
respect for him !) understands us well. He does not eat 
us up ; he takes our eggs, lays them in the family ant-hill 
on the ground floor, — lays them, labelled and numbered, 
side by side, layer on layer, so that each day a new one 
may creep out of the egg. Then he puts us in a stable, 
strokes our hind legs, and milks us. He has given us the 
prettiest of names, — " Little milch-cow." 

All creatures, who, like the ant, are gifted with common 
sense, call us by this pretty name. 

I was born on a rose-leaf. I and all the regiment live 
on the rose-tree. The gardener calls us plant-lice ; the 
books call us Aphides ; but the little children call us the 
ant's cows. 

Andersen. 



1 86 STORIES AND MORNING TALK'S. 

SAINT ELIZABETH AND THE ROSES. 

Saint Elizabeth daily visited the poor who dwelt in the 
suburbs of Eisenach, and in the huts of the neighboring 
valleys. One day during a severe winter, she left her 
castle with a single attendant, carrying in the skirts of her 
robe a supply of bread, meat, and eggs for a certain poor 
family ; and as she was descending the frozen and slippery 
path her husband met her. Now her husband did not like 
to have her going out in such cold weather, and he asked 
her, — 

" What dost thou here, my Elizabeth 1 let us see what 
heavy burden thou art carrying." And she, confused and 
blushing to be so discovered, pressed her mantle to her 
bosom ; but her husband insisted, and, opening her robe, 
he beheld only red and white roses, more beautiful and 
fragrant than any that grew on earth even in summer, and 
it was now the depths of winter. 

Then he bade her go on her way and fulfil her mission 
of feeding the hungry ; but taking one of the roses of 
Paradise, he put it in his bosom and continued to ascend 
the mountain, thinking of the goodness of Elizabeth's 
heart and the greatness of Him who could change bread 
into roses. 



FOURTH WEEK OF MAY. 1 8/ 



JFourtI) W^tt\ of Has- 

You have seen caterpillars of various kinds, and have 
learned that all caterpillars go to sleep creeping creatures 
and wake up with wings. But all creeping things are not 
caterpillars ; some are only worms, such as Carl found in 
the ground, and no one, not even Sir John Lubbock, has 
discovered that a worm ever becomes anything but a worm. 
You ought to hear about Sir John Lubbock, who lives in 
England, and knows more about earthworms, and ants, 
and bees, and wasps, perhaps, than any other man in the 
world. 

He has studied them all a great many years, and if you 
should ask him if he knows all about them, what do you 
suppose he would say .'' No doubt he would answer, " I 
could not find out all I want to know of them if I could 
study them a hundred years." 

[The story of The Mice in the Robin's Nest or The Harvest Mouse 
may be told. Object lesson on hickory-tree may be given.] 



HELPS TO AN OBJECT LESSON ON THE HICKORY- 
TREE. 

Showing the children a shelled hickory-nut, draw from 
them that it is a nut and grows upon a tree. [Some 
of them will think of the acorn as soon as the hickory- 
nut is presented, and will reason from analogy that it 
grows on a tree.] This nut had two shells, as you will see 



188 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

when I show you the one in the box. Its name is Hickory- 
nut. Now on what kind of tree do you suppose it grows } 
I think somebody can tell its name. Yes, it grew on a 
hickory-tree ; the meat is very good to eat, and if you listen 
well to what I tell you about the tree, you shall each have 
a nut to eat. 

This tree grows out in the woods, sometimes standing 
close beside the oak-tree ; but no farmer or woodman would 
make the mistake of cutting a hickory-tree for building a 
ship or a fence. Which tree would he cut for those pur- 
poses .'' The oak, to be sure. I am glad you remember so 
well. But how do you suppose he could tell which was the 
oak-tree .-' He could tell by the leaves in summer, and by 
the bark of the tree in winter. See, here is a hickory- 
leaf; its edge is not cut into such points as you saw on the 
oak-leaf, but it has tiny points which we will call teeth ; 
you can feel them and see them, too. The wood of the 
hickory-tree makes beautiful hot fires, and when the far- 
mer's wife is baking the pumpkin pies for the Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner, she always asks her little boy to bring in some 
hickory-vjood ; and he goes out to the piles of wood and 
pulls out the hard, white sticks, with shaggy bark like this, 
and builds a fire that you would like to see in a cold day. 
Would you like to color the leaf of the hickory-tree with 
your brush and paint .^ You may do so when you can tell 
me surely which is the hickory-leaf and which the oak ; 
and you may make the hickory-nut from clay if you like. 
Now we will have some hickory-nuts to eat. 

[Crack one in the presence of the children, but have some prepared 
for eating.] 



FOURTH WEEK OF MAY. 1 89 

THE MICE IN A ROBIN'S NEST. 

Did Mr, Robin, when he took his family south for the 
winter, advertise a "House to let" in the newspapers? 
Grandpa Baldwin wondered about it when he found who 
had moved into the robin's nest on the top of the quince- 
bush. 

Grandpa was picking quinces when he noticed the nest. 
He was surprised to see something move in it. 

At first he thought it was a dry leaf, blown by the wind. 
He kept glancing up at it, and pretty soon something- 
moved again. 

He did not think for a moment that it could be a little 
robin ; for when quinces are ripe, all the little robins have 
grown up and have gone south. 

Grandpa was very curious by this time. He climbed up 
the tree and peeped into the nest. He saw nothing 
there but a bunch of wool. 

" How did wool get into that nest } " said grandpa. 

Then it moved again. Grandpa put his hand up care- 
fully, and was just about to lift the wool, when out jumped 
an old mother mouse and ran away. 

Grandpa started so that he nearly fell out of the tree. 

Then he lifted the wool and peeped into the nest. There 
he found six baby mice, all sleeping in the softest little bed 
you can imagine, with a nice wool mattress and coverlid. 

As the old mother mouse had run away and left her 
babies, grandpa decided to carry the nest home and show 
it to mamma and the boys. 

Such shouting as there was then! The "mites," as 
baby called them, cuddled closer and closer to each other, 
until one fell over the edge of the nest to the floor. 



190 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

Then such a scrambling as there was to catch him ! At 
last grandpa caught him. The mother mouse had a beau- 
tiful white breast and a fawn-colored back. Grandpa said 
she was a dear little mouse. The children thought they 
were all dear little mice. 

There are a great many of them in the fields. Some- 
times when the men are mowing, the mice run up their 
trousers' legs. Grandpa says he never before knew one to 
climb a tree and make a home for herself in a bird's nest. 

From Stickney's Reader. 

THE LITTLE HARVEST MOUSE. 

Do you know about the nests the little field-mice hang 
for their children high up in the stalks of standing grain } 
They do not often trust their little ones to the open nest 
of a bird. 

Their own nests are very carefully woven of narrow 
grasses. They are hollow globes not larger than the balls 
you use in your games, with always a baby mouse peeping 
out. 

They do not need much room, for this whole family in 
its nest would only weigh as much as a letter which one 
postage-stamp would carry. 

They are the tiniest of all animals, at least of all that 
have bones. 

What will they do when the grain is cut } 

"We shall be grown-up mice then," they answer. 

But what do they do .-' 

Some of them dig a deep hole in the ground and line 
it with grass. Some stay in the summer nest, after the 
stalks have been cut and are carried to the barn or piled 



FOURTH WEEK OF MAY. I9I 

in Stacks out of doors. They are nimble little fellows, 
well able to care for themselves. By the help of their 
long tail, and slender, flexible toes, they are among the 
best climbers in the world ; and they are brave, too. Mice 
of one of the tribes are said to be like little bears. 

They must be nimble, as their food consists of insects, 
especially flies, which they are very fond of. When they 
go in pursuit of them their aim is as sure as that of the 
swallow. 

If you can get some one to catch a field-mouse for you, 
it will be a pretty pet, — a little Thumbling, with which 
you may amuse yourself. It will burrow and build in a 
cage, as well as anywhere, if you give it something to work 
with. 

From Stickney's Reader. 



192 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



JFirst aEceft of 3une, 

Next September some of these children will go to 
public school. Here we have learned a little about things 
we see, there we will learn more and more as we grow 
older. 

The children who will be old enough for public school 
next year may sit in a little circle by themselves and let 
us hear how much they can remember about the stories 
and object-lessons heard here. 

We can easily see that the children who have been here 
every day remember the most ; it will be just so in public 
school ; the child that is there every day will learn the 
most. 

[Each child in this little class may select its own clay models, and 
tell what it can about them ; then they may exchange, and so test their 
knowledge. 

The Story of the Elephant or The Story of the Camel may be told.] 

THE ELEPHANT. 

Not so wonderful, perhaps, but wiser, larger, and stronger 
than the camel is the elephant. If we knew him well, we 
should think him the noblest of animals. 

In India elephants are too common to be in shows, but 
sailors like to watch the trained animals at work in ship- 
yards, moving timbers. Besides drawing great logs by a 
chain, they will lift heavy trunks of trees and carry them 
on their tusks, and will pile them evenly, pushing them 



FIJiST WEEK OF JUNE. 1 93 

into place with the right foot. When an elephant has 
dragged a log to the right spot, he will unhook the chain 
with the finger of his trunk. His driver sits sideways on 
a wooden saddle on the elephant's back, and makes signs 
by touching his side with his foot. The intelligent beast 
understands what is wanted of him. 

Sometimes one is obliged to hold his head so high that 
he cannot see where he is going ; but he moves on blindly 
and patiently. One day some people were landing when 
the tide was out and the wharf very muddy. There was 
a lady on board, and the captain would not allow her to 
soil her boots. 

He called to a driver, and in a moment his elephant 
pushed a log down the slope, fixing it just right for a walk 
across the muddy space. 

Those huge beasts seem proud of their strength. They 
do not like to do work which makes them look awkward ; 
but they are obedient and make the best of it. 

You have seen the elephant eat and drink, perhaps, 
picking up food and sucking up water with his long trunk. 
One could hardly believe the stout, strong trunk could 
bend around to put each mouthful of food into the mouth 
beneath. There is hardly a thing so strong or so delicate 
that the elephant cannot lift it safely. 

If kindly treated, he is loving and gentle, and may be 
trusted. An elephant was once very fond of the baby in his 
master's family. The nurse would take the little one in 
its cradle, put it between the elephant's feet, and go away. 

The great creature would watch over it, and move his 
trunk like a fan to keep off the flies. If baby awoke, he 
would rock the cradle back and forth, to get it off to sleep 
again. 



194 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

An elephant in a circus was once in pain, and a doctor 
gave him some medicine which cured him. On the next 
day, when the circus passed the house, the elephant saw 
the doctor in his doorway and went to him to caress him 
with his trunk. Having shown his gratitude, he marched 
forward again with the rest. 

From Stickney's Reader. 

THE CAMEL. 

There was once brought me from London a collection 
of pictures of the most remarkable animals of the world. 

I was young enough to think of them all as real, living 
creatures, and soon had my favorites among them. 

The camel would never have known by the way I 
treated him that he had the first place, but I think I 
always valued him more highly than any of the others. 

" You are so clumsy and awkward," I used to say to my 
camel ; " I would much rather not be so wonderful and be 
a little more beautiful. 

•' Your back is too high and, though your neck is so 
long, you do not carry your head well. If only you had 
ears like my horse, and thin, graceful legs and feet, it 
would be better, even if you could not have a smooth, 
bright coat of hair." 

Then I would fancy my favorite felt ill-used, for cam- 
els do have a sad, patient look, and I would take his part 
against myself. 

I made my proud horse admit that he would be good 
for nothing in a desert. I talked for the camel, and asked 
the horse if he could cover his eyes without shutting out 
the light, and close his nostrils, also, from the fine, hot 



FIRST WEEK OF JUNE. 1 95 

sand the air would be full of ; and if he would find his 
small, hard hoofs and iron shoes useful in the deep, loose 
sand. 

The horse did not mind my talk, and neither of the 
animals seemed to wish to grow more like the other. 

There are two kinds of camels. One lives in Turkey 
and in some parts of China, and has two humps on its 
back. 

The other lives in Arabia, and has but one hump. 

How would you like to have a baby camel about three 
feet high } When the little camels are about two months 
old, their owner begins to train them for their work. 

He makes them kneel every day for several hours. A 
piece of carpet covers them so that only the head and neck 
are seen. To prevent them from getting up, he puts 
heavy weights on the edges of the covering. This train- 
ing goes on for four months. 

Then the Arab children become their teachers and keep- 
ers. It is a pretty sight to see them, twice a day, feeding 
the little camels. In one hand they carry a bowl of cam- 
el's milk, and in the other a tiny switch. 

After the bowls are empty, the children give the camels 
a touch on the legs with the switch. Down they all drop 
on their knees. 

The education goes on week after week, and month after 
month, till the children and their pupils become very fond 
of each other. 

The camel is full grown at the age of eight years. Its 
food is chiefly grass, or if that is not to be had, it seems 
equally well pleased with the nettles, thistles, or other 
coarse, prickly plants found in its long journeys. 

Front Stickney's Reader. 



196 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 



^cconti SEeelt of %\xnt. 

As we learn to do things well we love to do them, and 
after doing a few things that are quite hard to do we be- 
come very fond of doing hard things. I hope these little 
children will always love to do hard things. There is a 
story about some one who wanted help to do something he 
could do himself if he tried. The story is what we call a 
fable, and was first told many hundred years ago by a man 
who was once a slave, but was given his freedom because 
he so much pleased the king with his stories. People so 
admired him that a statue in his honor was placed in 
Athens. What was his name .•* 

[The story of The Crow and the Pitcher may be told instead, to 
impress a lesson of self-helpfulness and courage in overcoming diffi- 
culties.] 

HERCULES AND THE WAGONER. 

As a wagoner drove his wagon through a miry lane the 
wheels stuck fast in the clay, so that the horses could go no 
farther. The man, without making the least effort to 
remedy the matter, fell upon his knees, and began to call 
upon Hercules to come and help him out of his trouble. 

" Lazy fellow," said Hercules, "lay your own shoulder 
to the wheel. Stir yourself, and do what you can. Then, 
if you want aid from me you shall have it. Remember 
the proverb, — 

•' 'Heaven helps those that help thernseives.' " 

■ " /Esop. 



SECOND WEEK OF JUNE. 1 97 

THE CROW AND THE PITCHER. 

Do you know what it is to feel thirsty, so very thirsty 
that you can think of nothing else ? 

The crow thought he was ready to die of thirst. 

Looking all about to find water, he spied a pitcher. 
"There may be water in it," he said ; " I'll go and see." 

He was right. There was water there, but so little that 
he could nc t reach it with his bill, though he stood on the 
very tips f f his toes. 

"Oh, dear!" he said, "what shall I do.?" 

The sight of it made him want it all the more. 

"I could get it," he said, "if I broke the pitcher." But 
the pitcher was too strong for him to break. 

" I might tip it over," he added, " and then get a little 
of the water as it runs out." But the pitcher was too 
heavy for him. 

He looked at the water, and was more thirsty still. 

"I won't give up until I have to," he said. "There 
must be some way for me to get that water. I'll try to 
find it out." 

At last he flew away. Do you think he gave it up .-• 
Not he. Wait a little, and you shall see what he did. 

He came flying back with a little pebble in his mouth, 
and let it drop into the pitcher. Then he flew away, but 
soon came back again with another pebble. " They will 
help to bring the water up to me," he said. 

Was he not a bright bird to think of such a way as 
that } 

He went again, and again, and again. Each pebble 
made the water rise in the pitcher a little ; each time he 
came, the crow tried to reach it. 



198 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

"If I can drop pebbles enough, it will save my life," he 
said. For now he was growing faint. 

The very next pebble that he dropped he could reach 
down and touch ; and one or two more brought the water 
so high that he could dip his bill into it. 

He drank every drop. And now he felt well and strong 
again. "This," he said, "is what people mean when they 
say, 

" ' If I cannot find a way, I will make one.' " 

jEsop. 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 199 



Eijirtr Wtt\ of June, 

We have another story, written for the children, by a 
man of whom you have been told. 

You have heard many of his stories, but not the half he 
has written. You will hear many more of them, and per- 
haps read them for yourselves in public school. This 
man was born in the city of Odense, Denmark. 

[The teacher may give points until the children guess Hans Ander- 
sen, after which the story of The Ugly Duckling may be told. Staff and 
Ring Story may be told.] 



A STORY FOR THE LESSONS "WITH STAFFS AND 
RINGS. 

On a hill-top there once stood a very tall and beautiful 
pine-tree whose roots struck deep into the earth, wrapping 
their arms about some cold black lumps of iron. 

[Draw, or, better than doing it yourself, encourage the children to 
draw, a hill with a tree upon it.] 

The black lumps of iron knew nothing of the sunshine 
and rain, the flowers and the children, except what the 
rootlets of the pine-tree whispered ; the rootlets heard it 
from their cousins, the pine needles, who speak a strange 
language understood by few people. Little children can 
hear more of the talk between the leaves and flowers than 
can grown people, I suppose. 



200 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

These little roots loved the iron, and were sorry it 
could get no news from the sun-land except what they 
might bring ; you would have been very happy to see 
the rootlets clasp the rough iron with their tiny fingers 
while they whispered pretty secrets about the coming of 
the rain, or the play of the sunshine over their heads. 

One day a woodman came with an axe to cut down the 
pine-tree, for a new use had been found for it. 

[The man with the axe may be drawn, the children singing " Little 
workmen are chopping."] 

Happily a wise man came for the iron too. 

[Another man may be drawn, with shovel or pick, coming from the 
opposite side of the tree.] 

The pine-tree was cut down, and the lumps of iron were 
dug out of the ground ; but neither the pine-tree, nor its 
little roots, nor the lumps of iron felt the least sad or 
unhappy, for they were going on a journey, though they 
did not expect to go to the same place. 

The woodman cut the pine-tree down and took it to a 
mill, where it was sawed into tiny bits which were made 
smooth and pretty, some pieces as short as a baby's thumb, 
some pieces as long as mamma's finger, and some as long 
as grandmamma's knitting-needles. The pine-tree was very 
happy to be made into such pretty smooth pieces, and to 
be wrapped in neat little bundles, all marked with a new- 
name, which you shall hear by and by, after we go to find 
the lumps of iron that lived — where .-• 

[Question children as to where it lived and who came for it.] 

The cold, black lumps of iron were dug out of the 
ground and put in a great furnace fire, which heated the 
iron all through, until it glowed like the fire itself, and 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 201 

became as soft and yielding as the clay you sometimes 
make into balls and apples. While the iron was hot and 
soft, it was made into steel rings, which were put in boxes 
and sent to Boston, where they were laid on the very 
same shelf, in the very same store, with the bundles of 
little pine sticks that were now named staffs. 

One day I went to that store and bought this box — 
hear the rings jingle — and this little bundle — see the 
staffs dance when I take off the rubber — and brought 
them here for you ; and you will learn to make a great 
many pretty forms with the straight pine staffs and the 
round steel rings, — after the iron is heated and pounded 
so much, it is'called steel, — and I am sure you will never 
forget that the pine-tree grows up in the sunshine, and the 
iron is found down in the ground. 



THE UGLY DUCKLING. 

It was so beautiful in the country ! It was the summer 
time. The wheat-fields were golden, the oats were green, 
and the hay stood in great stacks in the green meadows. 
Yes, it was beautiful, it was delightful in the country. 

In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse ; and 
from the walls down to the water's edge grew great bur- 
docks, so high that under the tallest of them a little child 
might stand upright. The spot was as wild as if it had 
been in the very centre of the thick wood. 

Here sat a duck upon her nest, watching for her young 
brood to hatch ; she had begun to think it a wearisome 
task, for the little ones were so long coming out of their 
shells, and she seldom had visitors. 



202 STOBIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

At length, however, one shell cracked, and soon 
another ; and from each came a living creature, that lifted 
its head and cried, " Peep, peep ! " 

"Quack, quack !" said the mother; and then they all 
tried to say it, too, as well as they could, as they looked 
all about them on every side at the tall green leaves. 
Their mother allowed them to look about as much as they 
liked, because green is good for the eyes. 

"What a great world it is, to be sure," said the little 
ones, when they found how much more room they had 
than when they were in the egg-shell. 

" Do you imagine this is the whole of the world } " said 
the mother. "Wait till you have seen the garden. Far 
beyond that it stretches down to the pastor's field, though I 
have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all out ? " 

" No, not all ; the largest egg lies there yet." 

" I'm really beginning to be tired ; " but for all that she 
sat down again. 

"Well, and how are you to-day } " quacked an old duck, 
who came to pay her a visit. 

"There's one egg that takes a deal of hatching. The 
shell is hard and will not break," said the fond mother, 
who sat still upon her nest. " But just look at the others. 
Have I not a pretty family .-' Are they not the prettiest 
little ducks you ever saw .'' " 

" Let me see the egg that will not break," said the old 
duck. " Take my advice and leave it where it is. Come 
to the water, and teach the other children to swim." 

" I think I will sit a little longer," said the mother; " I 
have sat so long, a day or two will not matter." 

"Very well, please yourself," said the old duck, rising; 
and she went away. 



THIRD WEEK OE JUNE. 203 

At last the great egg broke, and the latest bird cried 
" Peep, peep ! " as he crept forth from the shell. How big 
and ugly he was ! The mother duck stared at him and did 
not know what to think. "Really," she said, "this is an 
enormous duckling, and it is not at all like any of the 
others." 

On the next day the weather was delightful. The sun 
shone brightly on the green burdock-leaves, and the mother 
duck took her whole family down to the water, and jumped 
in with a splash. " Quack, quack ! " cried she, and one 
after another the little ducks jumped in. The water 
closed over their heads, but they came up again in an 
instant, and swam about with their legs paddling under 
them as easily as possible ; and the ugly gray-coat was in 
the water, swimming with them. 

"Oh," said the mother, "see how well he uses his legs, 
and how erect he holds himself ! He is my own child, and 
he is not so very ugly after all, if you look at him properly. 
Quack, quack ! come with me to the farmyard. Come, 
now, don't turn in your toes ; a well-bred duckling spreads 
his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother, in this 
way ; now bend your necks and say ' Quack.' " 

The ducklings did as they were bade ; but the other 
ducks stared, and said, " Look, here comes another brood, 
and what a queer-looking object one of them is ; we don't 
want him here;" and then one flew out and bit him in 
the neck. 

"Let him alone," said the mother; "he is not doing 
any harm." 

" Yes, but he is so big and ugly. He's a perfect fright," 
said the spiteful duck, "and therefore he must be turned 
out" 



204 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

"The others are very pretty children," said an old duck, 
"all but that one. I wish his mother could smooth him 
up a bit ; he is really ill-favored." 

" That is impossible, your grace," replied the mother. 
" He is not pretty, but he has a very good disposition, and 
swims as well or even better than the others. He has 
remained too long in the Q.gg, and therefore his figure is 
not properly formed ;" and then she stroked his neck and 
smoothed the feathers, 

"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old 
duck. " Now make yourself at home." 

And so they made themselves comfortable ; but the poor 
duckling who had crept out of his shell last of all, and 
looked so ugly, was pushed and made fun of by all the 
poultry. 

"He is too big," they said; and the turkey cock, who 
had been born into the world with spurs, and fancied him- 
self really an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel under 
full sail, and flew at the duckling. He became quite red 
in the head with anger, so that the poor little thing did 
not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he 
was so ugly as to be laughed at by the whole farmyard. 

So it went on from day to day. The poor duckling was 
driven about by every one ; even his brothers and sisters 
were unkind to him, and would say, " Ah, you ugly crea- 
ture!" So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds 
in the hedge as he flew over the palings. " They are 
afraid of me, too, because I am so ugly," he said. So he 
closed his eyes and flew still faster, until he came out on 
a large moor, inhabited by wild ducks. Here he remained 
the whole night, feeling very tired and sorrowful. In the 
mornins: when the wild ducks rose in the air, thev stared 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 205 

at their new comrade. "What sort of a duck are you ? " 
they all said, coming round him. 

He bowed to them, and was as polite as he could be ; 
but he did not reply to their question. " You are exceed- 
ingly ugly," said the wild ducks; "but that will not mat- 
ter if you are polite." 

After he had been on the moor two days, there came 
two wild geese. 

" Listen, friend," said one of them to the duckling ; "you 
are so ugly that we like you very well. Will you go with 
us .'' Not far from here is another moor and you may make 
your fortune, ugly as you are." 

He waited quietly for several hours, and then, after 
looking carefully around him, hastened away from the 
moor as fast as he could. He ran over field and meadow 
till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle against it. 

Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage into 
which he crept. 

Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a cat, and a hen. 
The cat, whom his mistress called " My little son," was a 
great favorite ; he could raise his back, and purr, and could 
even throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the 
wrong way. The hen had very short legs ; so she was 
called "Chickie Short-legs." She laid good eggs, and her 
mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. 

In the morning, when the strange visitor was discovered, 
the cat began to purr and the hen to cluck. " What is 
that noise about } " said the old woman, looking around the 
room ; but her sight was not very good, therefore, when 
she saw the duckling, she thought it must be a fat duck 
that had strayed from home. "Oh, what a prize!" she 
exclaimed. " Perhaps I shall have some duck's eggs ; I 



206 STORIES AND MORNING TAIKS. 

must wait and see. So the duckling was allowed to re- 
main on trial for three weeks ; but there were no eggs. 

Now the cat was the master of the house, and the hen 
was the mistress ; and they always said, " We and the 
world," for they believed themselves to be half the world, 
and by far the better half, too. 

" Can you lay eggs } " asked the hen. 

"No." 

"Then have the goodness to cease talking." 

" Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks } " 
said the cat. 

"No." 

" Then you have no right to express an opinion when 
sensible people are speaking." So the duckling sat in a 
corner, feeling very low-spirited ; but when the sunshine 
and the fresh air came into the room through the open 
door, he began to feel such a great longing for a swim on 
the water, that he could not help speaking of it. 

"What an absurd idea," said the hen. " You have noth- 
ing else to do, therefore you have foolish fancies. If you 
could purr or lay eggs they would pass away." 

"But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," 
said the duckling, " and so refreshing to feel it close over 
your head, while you dive down to the bottom." 

" Delightful, indeed ! it must be a queer sort of pleasure," 
said the hen. " Why, you must be crazy ! Ask the cat, — 
he is the cleverest animal I know, — ask him how he would 
like to swim about on the water, or to dive under it, for I 
will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the 
old woman ; there is no one in the world more clever than 
she is. Do you think she would relish swimming, and let- 
ting the water close over her head .-' " 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 20/ 

"I see you don't understand me," said the duckling. 

" We don't understand you ? Who can understand you, 
I wonder ? Do you consider yourself more clever than 
the cat or the old woman ? I will say nothing of myself. 
Don't imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your good 
fortune that you have been so well received here. Are 
you not in a warm room, and in society from which you 
may learn something .-' But you are a chatterer, and your 
company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only 
for your good, I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that 
is a proof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to 
lay eggs and learn to purr as quickly as possible." 

" I believe I must go out into the world again," said 
the duckling. 

"Yes, do," said the hen. So the duckling left the 
cottage, and soon found water on which it could swim and 
dive ; but he was avpided by all other animals, because of 
his ugly appearance. 

Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to 
orange and gold ; then, as winter approached, the wind 
caught them as they fell, and whirled them in the cold 
air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snowflakes, hung 
low in the sky, and the raven stood on the ferns, crying, 
"Croak, croak!" It made one shiver with cold to look 
at him. All this was very sad for the poor duckling. 

One evening, just as the sun was setting amid radiant 
clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of 
the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them 
before. They were swans ; and they curved their beauti- 
ful necks, while their soft plumage shone with dazzling 
whiteness. They uttered a singular cry, as they spread 
their glorious wings and flew away from those cold regions 



208 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

to warmer countries across the sea. As they mounted 
higher and higher in the air, the ugly little duckling felt 
quite a strange sensation as he watched them. He whirled 
himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck 
toward them, and uttered a cry so strange that it frightened 
even himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy 
birds ! And when at last they were out of his sight, he 
dived under the water, and rose again almost beside himself 
with excitement. He knew not the names of these birds, nor 
where they had flown ; but he felt towards them as he had 
never felt for any other bird in the world. He was not en- 
vious of these beautiful creatures ; it never occurred to him 
to wish to be as lovely as they. Poor ugly creature, how 
gladly he would have lived even with the ducks, had they 
only given him encouragement. The water grew colder and 
colder ; he was obliged to swim about in the water to keep 
it from freezing ; but every night the space on which he 
swam grew smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard 
that the ice in the water crackled as he moved, and the 
duckling had to paddle with his legs as well as he could to 
keep the space from closing up. He became exhausted at 
last, and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the snow. 

Early in the morning a peasant, who was passing by, 
saw what had happened. He broke the ice with his 
wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. 
The warmth revived the poor little creature ; but when 
the children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought 
they would do him some harm, so he started up in terror, 
fluttered into the milk-pan and splashed the milk about 
the room. Then the woman clapped her hands, which 
frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter- 
cask, then into the meal-tub, and out again. What a 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 209 

condition he was in ! The woman screamed, and struck 
at him with the tongs ; the children laughed and screamed 
and tumbled over each other, in their efforts to catch him ; 
but luckily he escaped. The door stood open ; the poor 
creature could just manage to slip out among the bushes, 
and lie down quite exhausted in the newly-fallen snow. 

It would be very sad were I to relate all the misery 
and privations which the poor little duck endured during 
the hard winter; but when it had passed, he found him- 
self lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. 
He felt the warm sun shining, and heard the lark singing, 
and saw that all around was beautiful spring. 

Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong, as 
he flapped them against his sides, and rose high into the 
air. They bore him onwards until he found himself in a 
large garden, before he well knew how it had happened. 
The apple-trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant 
elders bent their long green branches down to the stream 
which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked 
beautiful. From a thicket close by came three white 
swans, rustling their feathers, and swimming lightly over 
the smooth water. The duckling remembered the beauti- 
ful birds, and felt more unhappy than ever. 

"I will fly to those royal birds!" he exclaimed, "and 
they will kill me because, ugly as I am, I dare to go near 
them. Better be killed by them than pecked by ducks, 
beaten by hens, or starved with hunger in the winter." 
Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful 
swans. The moment they saw the stranger they rushed 
to meet him with outspread wings. 

"Kill me," said the poor bird, and he bent his head 
down to the surface of the water. 



2IO STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

But what did he see in the clear stream ? His own 
image ; no longer a dark gray bird, ugly to look at, but a 
graceful and snowy swan. 

To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no con- 
sequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's Qgg. 
He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, 
because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the 
pleasure and happiness around him ; for the great swans 
swam round the new-comer, and stroked his neck with 
their beaks, as a welcome. 

Into the garden presently came some little children, 
and threw bread and cake into the water. 

"See," cried the youngest, "there is a new one ;" and 
the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and 
mother, dancing and clapping their hands, and shouting 
joyously, " There is another swan come ; a new one has 
arrived." 

Then they threw more bread and cake into the water, 
and said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all ; he 
is so young and pretty." And the old swans bowed their 
heads before him. 

Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his 
wing ; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy ; 
yet he was not at all proud. He had been persecuted and 
despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he 
was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder- 
tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and 
the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his 
feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from 
the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed of such happi- 
ness as this while I was the despised ugly duckling." 

Andersen. 



THIRD WEEK OF JUNE. 211 

WE THANK THEE. 

For flowers that bloom about our feet ; 
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet ; 
For song of bird and hum of bee ; 
For all things fair we hear or see, — 
Father in heaven, we thank thee ! 

For blue of stream and blue of sky ; 
For pleasant shade of branches high ; 
For fragrant air and cooling breeze ; 
For beauty of the blooming trees, — 
Father in heaven, we thank thee ! 

For mother-love and father-care. 
For brothers strong and sisters fair ; 
For love at home and here each day ; 
For guidance, lest we go astray, — 
Father in heaven, we thank thee ! 

Anonymous. 



A TRUE BEAR STORY. 

A farmer once lived a long way from town ; he raised 
potatoes on his farm, corn for his meal, wheat for his flour, 
cows to supply him with milk and butter, and hens to lay 
eggs for his breakfast. He had to buy his sugar and salt, 
coffee and rice in the village. 

One day late in autumn he took some potatoes and wheat 
to town to sell, and he bought some sugar and rice to take 
to his children. He bought a large quantity of sugar 
which he took home in a small barrel in the back of his 
wagon. When he was dri\'ing through the woods, just as 



212 STORIES AND MORNING TALKS. 

they were approaching a bridge, the horses stopped in the 
road and stood on their hind legs. You may be sure the 
farmer was surprised, and, as the horses refused to go on, 
he gave the reins to his wife and got out to see what was 
the matter ; it was almost dark, so the farmer could not 
see very plainly, but he could see something black on the 
bridge, and on going a little nearer, he saw that it was a 
large black bear, standing on his hind legs, that had fright- 
ened the horses ; the farmer was not much afraid, and he 
snapped his whip at the bear, and made him jump from 
the bridge, and run away ; then the farmer got into his 
wagon again and started homeward ; but he had not driven 
far before he heard a low growling behind him, and there 
was the bear in the back of the wagon, with his nose in 
the sugar barrel. The farmer's wife was very much afraid 
of the bear, but the farmer told her not to fear as it was 
sugar the bear wanted, and again the farmer drove the 
bear away by snapping his whip and shouting. Then he 
said perhaps the little bears would like a taste of sugar, 
and he would make sure that the bear would not follow 
them home and into the pantry, which he did by throwing 
a pound of the sugar out into the road where the bears 
could get it. 



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